


The Same Old Song About Mexico

by patchfire, raving_liberal



Series: Mexico [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alive Finn Hudson, Bad Spanish, Drugging, Friends to Lovers, Kidnapping, M/M, Pinn Kinn Big Bang, Romantic Comedy, Untranslated Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-01-10
Packaged: 2018-01-08 04:52:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 38,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1128550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patchfire/pseuds/patchfire, https://archiveofourown.org/users/raving_liberal/pseuds/raving_liberal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finn and Puck wake up in the desert with bare feet, almost $10K in their pockets, and no memory of how they got... wherever it is they are. With the hot sun beating down on their backs, surrounded by buzzards, and cursing Mr. Schue for his poor Spanish education, Puck and Finn make the laborious trek across the sand to the tiny village shimmering in the distance. Luckily, a few large bills make it easier to treat sunsickness. The lovesickness is a little harder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Same Old Song About Mexico

**Author's Note:**

> Art by [Kidenagain](http://archiveofourown.org/users/kidenagain)
> 
> Special thanks to david-of-oz for copyediting this for us, despite the blistering Australian heat, and to joymaro/joeyrz for correcting our Spanish. Any lingering mistakes are ours and ours alone.

Finn wakes up and squints against the too-bright morning sun, wondering why the ceiling fan in their dorm room looks like buzzards circling overhead, then in the next moment remembering their dorm room doesn’t _have_ a ceiling fan. He turns his head to the right and sees scrub brush, sand, and maybe mountains crouching in the far distance. He turns his head to the right and sees Puck passed out on the ground next to him.

“Puck,” Finn says, then repeats, louder, “Puck. Wake up. We’re being circled by buzzards.”

“Huh?” Puck groans, his head turning towards Finn. He doesn’t open his eyes, but he does frown in Finn’s general direction. “Finn?”

“Buzzards,” Finn says. “I think we’re in the desert or something.”

“Why’d you bring me here?” Puck mumbles, squinting as his eyes open to look at Finn. “I didn’t know you liked the desert.”

“I didn’t bring us here. _You_ must’ve brought us here!”

“Nah, I was following— why would I go to the desert?” Puck asks. 

“’Cause you’re the one who keeps saying ‘my people are a desert people’ to justify turning up the heater,” Finn says.

“You try to keep it at like fifty-five,” Puck protests. “And used to be desert people. Why would I want to go to the desert without water? We don’t have any water, do we?” He sounds a little panicked at the end of the last sentence. 

Finn lifts his head and looks at his body and shoeless feet. “I don’t see any water. I’ll call somebody to come get us,” he says, reaching into his pocket. He doesn’t feel his phone, so he reaches into his other pocket. No phone there, either, but that pocket does have what feels like a thick wad of paper in it. Finn pulls the paper out and holds it up to his face, squinting at it. “Uh, Puck? Can you think of a reason why I have a big stack of money in my pocket?”

“Did you sell your truck? That’d be kinda dumb, dude. How are we supposed to drive back to Ohio now?”

Finn thumbs through the stack. “There’s like two thousand dollars here,” he says. “Use your phone. We can afford a taxi.”

“Yeah, ’cause I keep the number for the Albuquerque Taxi Service on my phone,” Puck says almost agreeably, reaching into his pocket. “What the—?” He pulls out a wad of cash and then reaches into the other pocket. “Did we start selling drugs or something?”

“How much do you have?”

“A _lot_.” Puck starts thumbing through it, shaking his head. “It’s got to be at least four or five thousand.”

“Shit. That’s a lot of money. Why do we have so much money?” Finn asks. “Why are we in the middle of the desert with so much money?”

“And why don’t we have our phones?” Puck adds. “You think it’s some kind of hazing prank?”

“Hazing pr— oh, yeah! Is the last thing you remember that frat party?”

“Yep. Thing is, I don’t remember drinking more than a couple of beers. You?”

“I had a 7 Up with a shot of vodka in it, and that’s it,” Finn says. 

“So we didn’t pass out just from drinking.” Puck frowns. “Drugging someone’s a major party foul, though.”

“Yeah, that’s not cool,” Finn agrees. He lifts his head again to look around at the landscape. “Where do you think we are?”

“New Mexico? Arizona?” Puck shrugs. “Pretty sure we didn’t cross any oceans. But hey, at least they dumped us together, right?”

“Yeah, that’s pretty awesome,” Finn says. 

Puck pulls himself up, leaning back on his elbows, and looks around. “Yep. It’s definitely a desert. You think there’s a road or something to follow around here?”

Finn pushes himself up onto his elbows too and squints, putting his hand to his forehead to shade his eyes as he looks around them. “I don’t see anything.”

“Guess there’s nothing to do but walk, then.” Puck looks around again. “Sun’s either setting or rising, which means that way is either west or east.” 

Finn nods as he forces himself all the way up into sitting. “Guess we could wait a little while and see if it gets dark or not. Then we’d know for sure,” he says. “Not sure if east or west is the better direction to go, though.”

“Maybe we should look for water.” Puck frowns. “I didn’t pay attention to deserts in ecology or whatever. How do we find water?”

“Cactuses, I think?” 

“Cacti,” Puck says almost absently, shaking his head.

“Yeah, we can check those, too,” Finn says. With another look around, he pushes himself up onto his feet, slowly standing. The buzzards that had been circling land nearby, the biggest one making a threatening clicking in Finn and Puck’s direction. Finn kicks some sand in the buzzard’s direction, but it just clicks at him some more and walks in a wobbly circle.

“We don’t want your rotten carcass, you stupid bird,” Puck calls towards it, then stands up himself and shakes a little. “Well, that’s sand.”

“I think the birds want _our_ rotten carcasses,” Finn says. “And yeah, I think I’ve got sand up my boxers. My butt crack feels gritty.”

“Take ’em off,” Puck suggests. “Go commando.”

“I don’t think I want to take my pants off in front of them,” Finn says, nodding his head in the direction of the buzzards. The big one seems to take the nod as encouragement to come closer, clicking at Finn and making little fronting motions with its head, like it’s just waiting for Finn to make a wrong move in the buzzards’ direction before it pulls out a switchblade or something.

“I’m starting to think they’re responsible for us being here,” Puck says, starting to walk in the opposite direction of the buzzards. He stops to pick up a decent-sized rock and hefts it twice before throwing it at the assembled buzzards. “Go, dumbasses!”

The big buzzard hops backwards, lets out a stream of poop, and then flaps its wings and takes off, the other, smaller buzzards following it. Finn grimaces and starts to follow Puck in the direction of the sun, which seems to be rising, since everything is getting a little brighter than when they first woke up. 

“At least with all this money, it shouldn’t be hard to get a bus or plane ticket back to Lima,” Finn says cheerfully. 

“I’ll head right over to the ticket counter in five hundred yards,” Puck says dryly. “We probably shouldn’t spend it unless we have to. Or spend it at a small place and get smaller bills as change.”

“Somebody obviously wanted us to have it, though,” Finn counters. “Why not spend it?”

“Don’t you think it’s just a _little_ bit suspicious? A wad of big bills like this?” Puck says skeptically. 

Finn shrugs. “Maybe somebody felt bad about dumping us in… Nevada? Arizona?” He shrugs again. “Utah?”

“Yeah, if they felt bad about it, they shouldn’t’ve done it,” Puck argues. “I’m thinking money laundering, maybe.”

“Like the mob?”

“Yeah.” Puck shrugs. “Maybe there’s a German version of it. Or Polish.”

“Mobski?” Finn asks.

Puck grins and laughs for a short moment. “Yeah, maybe so.” He puts his hand up to his eyes and looks around. “Guess this is east after all?”

Finn nods his agreement, and they continue walking east for a long time, the scenery around them never changing. After an hour, the buzzards return, circling overhead. By the time they’ve been walking for two or three hours, Finn’s feet are cracked and sore, the sun is beating down on them so hot that sweat pours down Finn’s back, soaking his gritty boxers, and he’s starting to wonder how to tell the difference between heatstroke and just plain giving up. 

“I hate this desert,” Finn croaks.

“Just this one?” Puck asks. “I’m ready to say I hate ’em all.”

“Tok tok tok,” the big buzzard clicks at them. 

“Fuck off,” Finn tells the buzzard. The buzzard poops again, then flaps up to the top of a cactus, giving them the evil eye. 

Puck squints at the buzzard. “I think that thing’s smarter than people think. Where’s he get _his_ water?”

“We should kill it and eat its brains,” Finn suggests. “We’ll know everything it knows.”

Puck stops walking and stares at Finn. “Dude. Did you get sunstroke or something? Did the sun make you a zombie?”

“Maybe,” Finn says, continuing to shuffle in the direction that might still be more or less east-ish. 

“Well, don’t eat _my_ brain,” Puck says, sounding almost offended. 

“I’d starve,” Finn says, and Puck looks so hurt that Finn starts to laugh. “Still more of a meal than mine, I guess,” he adds.

“And yet you want to eat the buzzard’s,” Puck says, shaking his head and looking confused. 

“I don’t want to eat the buzzard’s. What are you talking about?” Finn asks. “Dude, do you have heatstroke?”

“You just _said_!” Puck protests.

“No, I didn’t!” Finn says, though it’s possible he did, and already forgot. He’s very hot and sweaty and the sand in his butt crack has turned into gritty mud. Eating the buzzard’s brains almost sounds reasonable, so yes, probably he did say that. “Okay, maybe I said that,” he concedes.

“I think we should turn left,” Puck says decisively, after nodding once. “There’s weird-looking cacti over there.”

“I think those are, I dunno. Mules or goats or something,” Finn says, squinting at the dark shapes to his left. The air around them has started to shimmer and move. The dark shapes could be a few yards away, or they could be a mile away, and maybe they don’t even exist at all.

“Goats have milk,” Puck insists, turning towards the dark shapes. “Let’s try it.”

“Here goaty, goaty, goaty!” Finn calls. “Come headbutt the buzzards!”

“I don’t think goats come when you call,” Puck points out, pausing to let Finn catch up, then throwing an arm around Finn. Finn lets some of his weight slump against Puck while they walk, closing his eyes and relying on Puck not to walk him into a cactus or a goat or a buzzard. 

Reaching the goats or whatever they might be takes a lot longer than Finn expected, based on how far away they seemed to be. He isn’t sure what time sunrise happened, or exactly how long they’ve been walking, but the sun is almost directly overhead now, so it’s probably noon. Finn opens his eyes and looks in the direction they’re walking.

“I think that’s a dude on a bicycle,” Finn says hoarsely. 

“If bicycles have four feet and a tail, sure,” Puck says agreeably. His voice doesn’t sound as hoarse as Finn’s, and Puck steers them closer to the dude. “Hey!” Puck calls, waving his free arm. 

“Bicycle guy!” Finn tries to shout, not managing a lot of volume. He and Puck get closer, and Finn can see that the bicycle isn’t really a bicycle, and it really does have four feet and a tail, just like Puck said. “Uh. Mule guy?”

“Jackass,” Puck says.

“Hey!” Finn protests. “What did I do?”

“No, it’s a jackass,” Puck says, pointing to the animal the guy is sitting on. 

“I thought it was a mule.”

“I hope it’s not,” Puck says sadly, still waving at the guy ahead of them. 

“What’s so bad about mules?” Finn asks. The guy on the not-mule brings his whatever-it-is to a stop, waving half-heartedly back at Puck. 

“I feel bad for ’em,” Puck explains. “They’re sterile.”

“Oh. No germs. That’s cool.”

“No! No _sex_ ,” Puck says. 

“Aw. Poor mules,” Finn says. “Poor, poor sad mules.” He feels like he might cry for the poor mules, except he doesn’t have enough water in his body to make tears. He settles for shaking his head sorrowfully and repeating, “Poor, poor mules.”

“Hey!” Puck calls to the guy. “Do you have some water?” He reaches in his pocket and pulls out one of the bills, waving it above his head.

The guy on the mule-thing grins widely at Puck and gestures them over, calling out something that doesn’t make any sense to Finn at all, until he really closes his eyes and concentrates on it for a few minutes, during which time they reach the guy and his non-mule. 

“Agua, he said agua!” Finn says excitedly. “That means water, dude!”

“Awesome.” Puck pauses for half a step, then keeps going. “Do you remember what means ‘where are we?’, by any chance?”

“Uh. _Donde_ … something?” Finn offers, shrugging. “But agua, _that_ I remember. Definitely water.”

“Right.” Puck smiles broadly at the guy. “Agua,” he says, pointing to the guy, then them, then holds up the money and gestures like he’s going to give it to the guy. “Yeah?”

“Sí,” the guy agrees. He plucks the hundred dollar bill out of Puck’s hand, then produces a large plastic bottle of water, which he hands to Puck. 

“What’s ‘thank you’ again?” Puck hisses, still smiling at the guy.

“ _Gracias_ ,” Finn whispers back.

“Gracias!” Puck repeats loudly. “Uh… where are we?” he says a moment later. “Donde where is this?”

The guy shakes his head as he pockets the money. “México.”

“That means Mexico,” Finn whispers.

“Mexico?” Puck repeats, sounding upset. “How the hell did we get into a whole different _country_? Didn’t we need, I don’t know, passports? Bribes? Something?”

“I don’t know, dude! I’ve never been to Mexico!” Finn says. “Maybe we can call my mom and she can send us some passports?”

“Why would your mom have a passport for me?” Puck asks, then shakes his head. “Nevermind. I guess we need to find a phone for that anyway.”

“Ask him where to find a phone.” Finn whispers.

“Donde phone?” Puck tries. 

“Allá,” the dude says, pointing off in the distance. Finn can just barely make out what might be shimmering, dancing buildings somewhere far beyond the cactuses and the buzzards. 

“Thanks,” Puck says, then frowns. “Uh… gracie? Something like that. I am calling up Schue when we get back,” he says, steering Finn towards a large rock nearby.

“Buena suerte, tarados,” the mule-guy calls after them. 

“Yeah, thanks!” Puck calls over his shoulder. He walks them around the rock once, then halfway back around, before pushing Finn to sit down and opening the water bottle. “Drink up,” Puck says, sinking down beside Finn. 

Finn takes the bottle and starts to gulp water, careful not to let any of it spill down his face. After he’s polished off half the bottle, he hands it back to Puck. “Thanks, dude,” Finn says.

Puck guzzles about half of what’s left before replying. “Better?” he asks Finn. 

“Yeah, a little bit,” Finn says. “I wish I had a hat or some sunscreen.”

“We should get more shade here in another few minutes,” Puck says. “That’s why I walked around it. We’ll stay here for a little bit and then head to that place. Hi-yah? Is that the name of the buildings? Or some kind of word for village?” He frowns. “Or a battle cry?”

“I think it means ninjas,” Finn says. He shakes his head to clear it a little. “No, I think it means, ‘there’s ninjas over there’. Maybe he was warning us? Maybe we shouldn’t go that way.”

“I don’t think there are ninjas in Mexico,” Puck argues. “Anyway, we could pay the ninjas off. They aren’t going to go run to the Interpol.”

“Maybe they could smuggle us out of Mexico,” Finn suggests. 

“Somebody must’ve smuggled us in,” Puck says agreeably with a shrug. “You want to sleep?”

“We should try for that town over there,” Finn says, pointing at the shimmery buildings on the horizon.

“Yeah, we will,” Puck agrees. “After you rest.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Finn insists. 

“Yeah, well, _I_ need to rest,” Puck retorts. “Dragging your sandy ass to this rock.”

“Sorry,” Finn says. “I could walk better if everything weren’t so… dancey.”

“ ‘Don’t be fancy, just get dancey’,” Puck sings under his breath. Finn starts to giggle, then he can’t stop giggling. Puck claps his shoulder twice. “Dude, I’m funny but not that funny.”

“You’re funny,” Finn agrees, still laughing. “Everything’s really funny!”

“Yeah, not that funny,” Puck says slowly. He takes another long drink from the water bottle, then offers it to Finn. “You want the rest?”

Finn nods and takes the water, drinking what’s left in the bottle. The water has already gotten warm, but it still tastes good and helps Finn feel a little cooler. “I wish I had some mints,” Finn says. “My mouth feels like desert.”

“We’ll get some mints in the town,” Puck says, then snorts. “Fifty-dollar mints to go with hundred-dollar water.”

“My skin hurts.”

"Yeah, you're pretty burnt. Fifty-dollar sunscreen maybe?" Puck suggests.

“I just want some ice,” Finn says, closing his eyes. “A bathtub full of ice. An ice bath. A bath of ice.”

"That I don't have," Puck says, sounding almost worried. "Rest, okay?"

“Mmkay,” Finn sighs, leaning against Puck. The rock isn’t exactly comfortable, and even in the shade, the temperature has to be up in the hundreds, but Finn still finds himself drifting off into a sweaty sleep.

"Wake up," Puck whispers into Finn's ear. "Sun's at the line I drew." Puck snickers. "My line in the sand."

“Are the buzzards back?” Finn asks without opening his eyes. “I hate those guys.”

“Not right now,” Puck says, still whispering. “I think they can’t see us.”

“Are we still in Mexico?”

“For better or for worse,” Puck says, his head moving against Finn’s as he nods. 

“We should have bought that guy’s mule,” Finn says. He sighs loudly. His head hurts, his skin hurts, and his bare feet hurt. 

“Yeah, maybe so.” Puck sighs and moves away from Finn, standing up. “C’mon, dude. I don’t think it’s that far to the buildings, based on how long it seems to take stuff heading for it.”

Finn rubs his eyes and tries to blink away the spots in his vision, then squints at the buildings in the distance. “What stuff?”

“Two guys on jackasses. Some kind of motorized thing from way over there.” Puck points over his left shoulder. “ATV, dirt bike, couldn’t tell. If it was an ATV, maybe we can buy it.”

“Okay,” Finn says. He stands up, wobbling a little but not falling, though he does have to prop his arm on Puck’s shoulder for a minute to keep his footing. “Let’s go.”

Puck wiggles around a little until Finn’s arm is draped over Puck’s shoulders, and then Puck starts walking towards the buildings. “At least there’ll be lots of shade there, right?” Puck says almost cheerfully. “Maybe some candy bars or Slim Jims, too.”

“Maybe some air conditioning?” Finn suggests, trying to sound less hopeful than he actually feels, just in case he’s disappointed. He doesn’t want to make Puck feel bad if it turns out there’s no air conditioning after all.

“At least a fan,” Puck agrees, nodding his head a little. “Probably some pop. Don’t people talk about Mexican Coke for some reason?” He frowns. “Or is that a drug? I never know.”

“Uh huh,” Finn says absently, leaning his weight on Puck.

“Maybe you need some drugs,” Puck says, looking critically at Finn. “And a good meal. Whoever dumped us out here should’ve at least given us an energy bar.”

“Yeah,” Finn agrees, because he can’t really string together too many words, now that they’re back out in the heat. 

“Maybe an embassy,” Puck says after a few more minutes. “So we don’t have to be smuggled. America has embassies, right?”

“I don’t wanna be smuggled.”

“We didn’t do anything wrong,” Puck continues, almost like Finn hadn’t spoken. “If we ditch all the money before we get to the embassy, they’ll probably label it a kidnapping and that’s it.” 

“I don’t wanna be kidnapped.”

“Dude.” Puck sighs. “We already _were_ kidnapped. We’re in the process of unkidnapping.” 

“I want a nap.”

“Yeah, you just had one of those. Maybe dinner and water and we’ll just find a bed for the night, yeah?” Puck asks. 

“Okay,” Finn says. “Why aren’t we there yet?”

“Because…” Puck pauses, and it’s quiet for a bit. “I’m not the Flash,” he finally finishes. “That’s why.”

“Oh. Yeah, okay,” Finn says. “That’s cool.”

“No, it’d be cool if I _was_ ,” Puck says. “Or some other superhero. I think I’d pick a different one. What about you?” 

“Is there one that’s frozen?” Finn asks. “I want that one.”

“Iceman?” Puck answers. “Sure, you can be Iceman. You could take a bath of ice.”

“That’s nice. That sounds really, really nice. Nice man.” Finn laughs. “Nice man, ice man.”

“Yeah, but I think you’re gonna have to let me take a bath _with_ you,” Puck says, not laughing along. “C’mon, can’t be more than fifteen more minutes. Okay? Hang in there.”

“Yeah, we can have a bath together. That’s good,” Finn agrees. They keep walking, and the buildings ahead do seem to be getting bigger, if not closer, so Finn figures that’s probably a good sign. “Why don’t we always do that?”

“You take up too much room in the shower,” Puck retorts. “I’d freeze.”

“I could be smaller.”

“Nah, you couldn’t,” Puck says, shaking his head. “Tell you what, if we’re ever—” Puck stops abruptly, shaking his head harder. “Stupid,” he mutters under his breath, almost too quiet for Finn to hear it. 

“Who’s stupid? You’re not stupid,” Finn says. “You’re, like, _smart_. Really smart.”

“Not that kind of stupid,” Puck says after a few too many seconds. “Anyway, look, you can tell that building’s grey, now, and that other one’s beige.” 

“They’re shiny,” is really all Finn can add to that, since they’re all pretty nondescript buildings, other than the way they keep shimmering. 

Puck gives Finn a slightly strange look and then speeds up just a little. “Yeah, let’s find the shiny restaurant or gas station or something,” he says finally. “You happen to remember any more Spanish? You always paid more attention than I did.” 

“Uno, dos, tres, quatro. El baño. Pollo loco,” Finn says.

“El Pollo Loco’s a restaurant chain in LA!” Puck says, laughing. “Pretty sure it’s just the name of their main dish.”

“¿Podrías decirme la hora?” Finn says, then starts to giggle again. 

“Nope, not getting you a whore,” Puck says. 

“I don’t want one!” Finn says, still giggling. “Why would I want a whore?”

“Well… good,” Puck says, frowning a little. “I don’t know why you would.”

“I wouldn’t!” Finn insists. He frowns back at Puck, blinking his eyes slowly. Puck starts to look a little shiny and shimmery, too. “You’re pretty.”

“Pretty?” Puck repeats. “That’s your best compliment?”

Finn tries to explain, but his mouth starts to feel dry again. “Yeah, you’re, uh, uh, oh crap, I’m—” 

And everything goes black.

Finn isn’t hot anymore. He’s cool. No, he’s chilly. No, scratch that, he’s cold, completely cold, completely fucking freezing. Finn groans and tries to reach for a blanket or something, but all he feels is water. 

“Whyyyyyyy?” Finn whines, still reaching for a blanket or a towel or _anything_ that isn’t as completely ice cold as his body is at the moment. He opens his eyes, but everything around him is a too-shiny blur, so he closes them again. 

“Hey,” Puck’s voice says, his hand grabbing Finn’s outstretched one. “What do you remember?”

“Why is it so cold? Why is it so wet?”

“You had sunstroke or poisoning or heatstroke, I don’t know, one of those,” Puck says, almost rambling and talking just a little too fast. “Trying to cool you off.” He squeezes Finn’s hand. “Hey, doctor-person!”

“I had a stroke?” Finn asks. “But I can feel both sides of my face. They hurt.”

“That’s just sunburn.” Puck knocks a few things around and then makes his triumphant noise. “Keep your eyes closed, I’ll put this goop on it.”

“I don’t want goop,” Finn says, as Puck starts spreading something cold and sticky on his face. “Stop gooping me!”

Puck chuckles. “You’ll like it in about five minutes. I promise. Or, well, the doctor-person promised. I think. There’s some food in here somewhere, and I got directions to a, well. Hotel. I guess. This is a pretty dinky town.”

Finn opens one eye again, trying to one-eye-glare at Puck, who doesn’t seem too upset by it. “Are we still in Mexico?”

“Yeah, I’m good, but I’m not that good.” Puck grins at him. “At least I’m pretty.”

“Are you?” Finn asks.

“You’re the one that said I was!” Puck retorts, sounding almost offended. 

Finn frowns and tries to remember. He can’t, but Puck doesn’t usually lie to him, so he says, “Okay. Yeah, you’re pretty.”

“There you go,” Puck says, sounding less disgruntled. “And there’s your goop. You want to get out of this tub? I can’t really tell what she means, but I think it’s something like ‘get out of my clinic now’.” 

“Are we in a clinic?” Finn asks.

“Yeah, some kind of walk-in place.” Puck stands up and offers Finn a hand. “C’mon, but don’t get me wet.”

“I remember some Spanish,” Finn says. He starts singing to Puck in a thin, cracking voice, “ _Esta noche, nosotros somos jóvenes._ ” 

“Doesn’t count. Taco Bell commercial.” He frowns and shakes his head. “I am _definitely_ having words with Schue about this.”

“Yeah,” Finn agrees. He takes Puck’s hand and lets Puck help him to his feet. “Dude, I’m totally naked.”

“Yeah, we’ve only got the one set of clothes,” Puck says, sounding amused. “Did you think I was gonna throw you in fully clothed?”

“Maybe?” Finn says, because he’s not really sure what he would do, if the situation were swapped and Puck was the one who had to go into an ice bath. Finn can’t say for sure if he’d think about taking off Puck’s clothes, or if it would be weird, or what.

“You gonna dress yourself?” Puck asks after a moment, still sounding amused. “I could buy more stuff from her, break up another big bill. Or I could help you, if you need it.”

“Help is probably good,” Finn admits. “I think I need a towel first.”

“That was an extra thousand,” Puck deadpans, then laughs and reaches behind Finn. “Here’s a towel, dude.” 

“Thanks,” Finn says. He takes the towel and dries himself off as best he can, which probably isn’t too good, since his arms feel like they’re made out of noodles and Jell-O. After he’s mostly dry, he lets the towel drop, then gestures at his clothes. 

“You want your boxers?” Puck asks. “Or you want to de-sand them at the hotel?”

“Are they still gritty? I don’t think I want them if they’re gritty,” Finn says. “My butt crack’s finally not full of sand.”

“Yeah, they’re probably gritty,” Puck agrees. He picks up Finn’s T-shirt and sniffs it briefly, then holds it out in front of him. “Maybe skip the shirt, too.”

“Just jeans, then, I guess,” Finn says. 

“Good choice,” Puck says approvingly, and he puts the shirt back on top of the boxers before picking up Finn’s jeans. “Which, you know, I’m all for not doing laundry until absolutely necessary, but we might have actually hit that.” 

Finn lifts one leg and lets Puck help him step into the jeans, then does the same with the other side. “I feel stupid,” Finn confesses.

“Yeah, next time you get kidnapped, remember to pack more water and sunscreen,” Puck says, rolling his eyes. “And pesos.”

“No, I mean...” Finn pulls his jeans up over his hips, zipping and buttoning them. “I dunno. I feel stupid having to get helped into my pants.”

Puck shrugs. “Hey, some people like getting help with getting out of their pants, right? Can’t be that different.” He rolls Finn’s shirt and boxers into a ball, then hands it to Finn. “Let’s get out of here before she charges us more.”

“How much did she charge us already?” Finn asks, tucking his dirty clothes under one arm. 

“Let’s just say I don’t think you’ll ever take a more expensive bath,” Puck says, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket and studying it. “Okay, I think we go right, then left, and it’s on the right.”

“Yeah, just point me where I need to go,” Finn says. “Pretty sure I can’t remember all those rights.”

“Or wrongs?” Puck quips, slinging an arm around Finn and hurrying him out of the clinic with a final wave at the woman. “We’ll figure out the next step tomorrow. After some food and sleeping.” Puck falls silent as they walk down the streets, studying the paper a few more times before stopping them in front of a building labeled ‘motel’. “Here we are, motel sweet motel!”

“This doesn’t look like a motel,” Finn says, looking at the building suspiciously. It doesn’t look any different from the other buildings, other than the ‘motel’ sign. 

“Mexican motel, I guess.” Puck shrugs. “Wait here and I’ll go get us a room.” Puck opens the door cautiously, then steps in and the door closes behind him. It’s only three minutes or so before Puck comes back out, holding a key and looking slightly sheepish. 

“What? What’s wrong?” Finn asks. “How many hundreds of dollars was it?”

“Oh, it was cheaper than your bath,” Puck says, his face clearing a little. “No, just, uh. There’s only one bed. Said it was the only room they had open.” Puck still looks like he’s not telling the whole story, but he gestures for Finn to follow him around the corner. 

Finn shrugs. “Oh. Won’t be the first time we’ve shared a bed, anyway.”

“Nah, that’s true,” Puck agrees, heading to the fourth door and unlocking it before poking his head in. “Air conditioning! Yes!” He flips on a light and walks the rest of the way in. 

“It feels like heaven in here. Like I died in the desert and this is heaven!” Finn says. 

“You want to nap before dinner or go eat now? The woman in there—” Puck stops and shakes his head. “Anyway, I can find the restaurant she told me about.”

“Yeah, I could nap,” Finn says. He takes the three steps between the door and the bed and falls face first onto it. The bed shakes and creaks, but doesn’t fall apart, which is a point in the motel’s favor. 

“Sounds good,” Puck agrees, locking the door and tossing the key on the small table near the very small window. A moment later, he flops down on the bed next to Finn. “Nap time.” He shifts on the bed until his back is to Finn, then sighs again. “Sleep, then food. Good deal.”

“Mmhmm,” Finn says, then he’s out. He must sleep for a while, because when he opens his eyes again, the light coming through the small, dusty window is a lot less bright. Finn feels something heavy draped over him, and something sort of soft and wet on his neck, tickling him. 

As Finn’s eyes adjust to the room’s dim light, he begins to take stock of his surroundings. He hadn’t really looked at the room before flopping onto the bed, not that there’s much to see, other than peeling paint that might have been white once and been stained yellowish with age, or might have been bright yellow and faded to a dingy off-white. The room is tiny, the window narrow, and the ceiling has a large water stain on it, directly over the bed. 

Once his eyes have adjusted, Finn’s brain starts trying to catch up, too. He’s extremely warm, which can be partly explained by the sunburn on his arms, head, and feet, but could also be due to the body pressed against his back, spooning him. The heavy thing draped over him is Puck’s arm wrapped around Finn’s chest. Puck’s face is smushed against Finn’s neck, right where Finn felt the soft, wet, tickly feeling, which means Puck may be mouthing on Finn’s neck in his sleep. It’s all a little weird, but good, too. Good-weird.

"No class yet," Puck mumbles.

“Huh?” Finn says.

Puck kisses the back of Finn's neck. "Don't get up," he says, sounding even sleepier.

Finn frowns. “I’m not getting— are you asleep?”

"Plenty of time," Puck continues, like he didn't even hear Finn, and he kisses the back of Finn's neck again, one of his hands sliding up and down Finn's chest slowly. It’s not as awkward as it could be, since it’s now obvious that Puck is dreaming, but since Finn isn’t sure _who_ Puck is dreaming about, maybe he should stop Puck or wake him up or something, to keep it from being more awkward later. 

Puck shuffles closer, pressing his lower body fully against Finn, too. He lets out a little whine between kisses, then takes a deep sniff against Finn's neck. "Finn," he says, still whining a little.

Oh. _Oh._

Well, Finn knows who Puck is dreaming about now, but as to whether or not it’ll make things more awkward, he really has no clue. He decides to just hold really still and not do anything to wake Puck up in the middle of his dream, because Puck might be embarrassed, and also, it’s kind of nice having his neck kissed like that. Finn’s not going to do anything to encourage Puck, but he can’t find it in his heart to do anything to _dis_ courage him, either.

Puck nuzzles Finn's neck again, in between kisses, and after a few more moments, Puck's body relaxes and he lets out a content sigh. "Good," he says. "Told you there was time." Then the kissing stops and his breathing evens out.

“Yeah,” Finn says softly. “You sure did.” He lies there staring at the wall, with Puck breathing against his neck and Puck’s arm over him, until the room is almost dark. Finn rolls onto his back, his face close to Puck’s.

“Hey. Hey Puck,” Finn whispers. 

"Huh?" Puck says, blinking his eyes twice. "Hey."

“We’re still in Mexico,” Finn says.

“Oh. Yeah.” Puck rolls onto his back, his arm leaving its position draped over Finn, and stares at the ceiling for a moment. He smiles slightly, then looks sheepish, then thoughtful, before he turns back to Finn. “Hungry?’

“Kinda. Really wishing I had more of that goop from the bathtub hospital,” Finn says.

“Oh, I think the tube’s over there.” Puck gestures towards the small table, which has an assortment of paper and a tube of something on it, along with the key to the motel room. “Sadly, my Jedi mind tricks aren’t bringing it over here on its own.”

“Too bad.” 

“I’m gonna get ’em to work one day,” Puck promises, swinging his legs off the side of the bed and leaning forward to grab the tube. “You won’t even realize it, you’ll just think you wanted to do all of it, all of a sudden.” He sits cross-legged on the bed, facing Finn. “Goop time?”

“Since there’s no mirror in here for me to do it myself, yeah,” Finn says. “You don’t mind?”

“Nah,” Puck assures him, opening the tube and squirting some of the goop onto one hand. Puck sets the tube down and starts rubbing it on Finn’s forehead. “Close your eyes, she made a bee noise and pointed to your eyes with the tube.” 

“Bees?” 

“I think she meant it could sting.” Puck’s hand moves down to Finn’s cheek, and then his other hand lands on Finn’s other cheek. “Probably shouldn’t eat it, either.”

“Put it on my hair, too,” Finn says. 

Puck laughs. “I don’t think your hair’s sunburnt. We’ll buy some hats tomorrow or something.” He runs his thumbs over Finn’s nose, close to his mouth, and then on his chin. “You want it on your neck, too?”

“Yeah, it hurts. It feels like… fried bacon.” 

“Ugh.” Puck makes a disgusted sound. “You can open your eyes up. Not that you ever _really_ closed them. Cheater.” He puts more goop on his hand, running it over the front of Finn’s neck before moving around and smoothing his fingers over the back of Finn’s neck. Finn sighs and relaxes his shoulders. “Better?” Puck asks, his fingers going just up under Finn’s hairline.

“Yeah, thanks,” Finn says.

Puck runs his hands over Finn’s neck and the top of Finn’s shoulders one more time, then his hands drop away. There’s a moment of quiet while Puck caps the tube and tosses it back on the table. “Dinner?” Puck finally says. 

“Sure,” Finn says. “Where’s this restaurant supposed to be?”

Puck gets off the bed, going through the papers before holding one up. “Block or two.” He steps back to the bed and offers Finn his hand. “C’mon, I bet they’ll serve us beer.”

A half hour, two beers, and three tacos later, Finn’s feeling better about the world and their entire situation, and even with the sunsickness and the sunburn and his sore feet and being in Mexico when he’s pretty sure he’s supposed to be taking a biology midterm, he’s having a good time and he’s sort of oddly happy. 

“Ahh, smiles,” an older woman suddenly says, stopping near Puck and Finn and beaming at them, speaking slightly accented but clear English. “All made up?”

Puck’s eyes get big and almost panicky for a second, and he swallows quickly, nodding. “Yeah, yeah, everything’s good, thanks,” he says, speaking rapidly and nodding. The woman’s smile gets even bigger and she pats Finn’s shoulder and Puck’s arm before moving on. 

“What was that about?” Finn asks, before he starts on his fourth taco.

“Dunno,” Puck says with a shrug, but he’s staring down at his plate of enchiladas as he speaks. 

“Uh huh,” Finn replies, shaking his head. “If you say so.” He eats his fourth taco, and considers whether or not he needs a fifth, and possibly a sixth, when he decides that first he should probably go pee. “I’ll be right back,” he tells Puck. “You should get us some more beer.”

“Good idea.” Puck stands up and grins at Finn. “Don’t get lost.”

“Remember, it’s _cerveza_ ,” Finn says as he heads towards the bathroom. When he gets back, Puck is leaning against the bar, talking to the bartender. He already has two more beers in hand, and Puck seems to be shaking his head at most of whatever the bartender says. 

“No,” Puck says a little louder. “Wouldn’t—” He spins and sees Finn, cutting off abruptly and raising the beers in Finn’s direction. “Wouldn’t work,” he says to the bartender, shaking his head a final time and then walking towards Finn and their table. 

“What wouldn’t work?” Finn asks.

“Um.” Puck takes a long gulp of his beer before answering. “Going back home the same way we came.” 

“Yeah, since we don’t even know how we got here, that probably wouldn’t work,” Finn agrees. 

“Exactly!” Puck brightens, looking relieved about something. “Also, I think they were trying to convince me to go to some kind of Bingo thing? But I don’t want to play Bingo.”

“We need to find out if they have a pay phone, is what we need,” Finn says. “We have to call my mom or somebody and see if they can get us out of here.”

“What’s phone in Spanish?”

“Uhhhhh.”

Puck frowns and looks towards the bar until he has the bartender’s attention. Then he makes a phone-shape with his hands, like they used to in preschool, and says “Ring ring?” with his eyebrows raised. 

The bartender frowns at Puck for a few seconds, then nods, looking less confused. “Teléfono!” he says brightly, then points down the opposite wall from where the bathrooms were. 

“Down there,” Puck says to Finn. “You want to eat more or try calling now?” 

“What time do you think it is here?” Finn asks.

“Seven? Eight?” Puck guesses. “Maybe go ahead and call.”

“Yeah, it’s probably pretty late in Ohio,” Finn says. “Do you have any quarters? Does the phone even take quarters?”

Puck shrugs. “I’ve got… some kind of Mexican coin. Or, no! Call that way they used to have the commercials about! Where your mom has to pay.”

“Collect? I bet she’ll be pretty pissed.”

“Dude, you’re stranded in Mexico and we have no idea how we got here. I guarantee you she’s gonna be pissed no matter who pays for the call.” Puck shrugs. “You want _me_ to call?”

“Maybe,” Finn says. “Once she’s done yelling, I’ll talk to her.”

Puck rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning a little when he stands up, heading down the hallway the bartender indicated. It takes Puck a little bit to figure out how to call the US, and then how to do it collect, but eventually Puck holds the receiver out enough for Finn to hear it ringing. The phone clicks as it connects, and then Carole’s voice comes through the phone loud enough for Finn, as well as probably half the people in the cantina, to hear it. 

“Noah Puckerman! Can you explain to me why you are calling me collect? From _Mexico_? At ten at night?”

“Oh, we must be on the Pacific, or close to it!” Puck says to Finn, then winces and talks into the phone. “Um, no? I mean, we don’t have a card or whatever, and we’re in Mexico, but we’re not really sure why.”

“ _Why_ ,” Carole shouts into the phone, “are you in _Mexico_ and does ‘we’ include Finn? Finn Hudson! Are you in Mexico?”

Finn’s eyes widen and he shakes his head and draws his hand across his throat, trying to get Puck to just hang up the phone, and they can figure out their own way back to Ohio. 

“Have you boys been _drinking_? Did you get _drunk_ and then drive to _Mexico_? _Drunk_? Did you drive drunk to Mexico?”

“No!” Puck says quickly. “We got kidnapped. They stole our phones. That’s the other reason we’re calling collect.”

“Oh my _god_ , Noah! Have you called the police? Are you at the embassy?”

“That’s, uh. The goal?” Puck winces a little. “We’re not really sure where we are.” 

Finn can hear Carole making a sort of squawking sound, but when she continues talking to Puck, her voice is calmer, which means he can’t hear anything that she’s saying. He turns to inspect the graffiti on the wall of the hallway, which is all in Spanish, but has some interesting drawings, at least.

“Finn,” Puck hisses a few minutes later, reaching out for Finn’s shoulder but missing, his hand running over Finn’s chest for a moment. “Find out the name of the town?”

Finn nods, and walks over to the bar. He leans on it, and asks the bartender, “Where are we? Uh… _donde_?”

“Cantina Privada!” the bartender says, somehow sounding both enthusiastic and impatient. 

“No, no, this _town_ ,” Finn says. “This, um. See… uh. See-you-dad?” he pronounces carefully.

“Ahh. Ojinaga.” 

“Ojinaga? Donde is Ojinaga?” Finn asks. “Ahhhhgh! I _hate_ being American!”

“Sí, sí, Ojinaga,” the bartender says, grinning. 

“I hate Will Schuester. I don’t know how to say that in Spanish,” Finn says.

“Odio a Will Schuester,” the bartender offers, still grinning. 

“Well, I _can’t_ ,” Finn insists, “because he was such a bad Spanish teacher that I can’t even order my tacos without the green sauce on them! I hate him, and I hate the desert, and I hate Ojinaga!”

“It is _sin verde_ ,” the bartender says in crisply accented English, “and I hope your opinion of our town changes over the length of your stay.”

“Ahhhgh!” Finn says again, throwing his arms into the air. “I hate everything!” He stomps off towards Puck, spitting out “Ojinaga” like he’s saying the name of somebody he really, really hates.

“Is that the town?” Puck asks when Finn gets closer. 

“Fucking _sí_!”

“Uh, Ojinaga,” Puck says to Carole. “No idea how to spell it.” He pauses. “No, you’ll just have to google it.” He turns back to Finn. “You okay?”

“No,” Finn grumbles.

Puck nudges Finn’s shoulder with his own, turning back to the phone. “That’s all we know. We’ll call again tomorrow.” He listens for a few more minutes, then shakes his head. “Tomorrow. Yeah. Bye.” He hangs up and throws his arm around Finn. “You want another beer?” 

“Yeah, but you’ll have to get it, because I’m not talking to that bartender again.”

“Huh? Why?” Puck asks. 

“Because he can speak English, but he kept acting like he couldn’t understand me!” Finn says. “And I already feel dumb enough!”

Puck scowls, and when he goes up to the bar, he glares at the bartender, who says something to Puck that just makes Puck shake his head. He heads back to Finn with two more bottles. “Ready? I told him I wasn’t paying for these.” 

“We’re allowed to take them out of the bar?”

Puck shrugs. “They’re unopened bottles. We can open ’em on the door at the motel.”

Finn nods. “Okay. I’m pretty tired, anyway.”

“Yeah.” Puck puts his arm around Finn again, steering them back to the motel. Puck’s thumb is moving, almost stroking, on Finn’s shoulder, slowly and repeatedly, though Puck doesn’t seem to be aware of it. He doesn’t speak on the short walk back to the motel, only removing his arm when he unlocks the door and promptly opens the beers. 

Puck takes a long gulp of his beer and then sets it down, starting to strip off his clothes and toss them into the bathtub. “Let’s wash them out tonight, wash us tomorrow.” He looks over at Finn and gestures. “C’mon.”

“If I put my jeans in the tub, I don’t have any clothes left,” Finn says. 

“Yeah, that’s why we gotta wash them tonight,” Puck explains. “So they have time to dry before tomorrow.” As he’s talking, Puck reaches for his own jeans, starting to unfasten them. 

“Yeah, but…” Finn kind of makes an effort to look away as Puck starts to take off his jeans, but also kind of doesn’t. 

“At least you’ve got boxers if your jeans don’t dry,” Puck says. “Jeans’ll probably still be wet in the morning for me.” He finishes removing his jeans, dropping them in the bathtub and starting to run the water. Puck stands back up after swirling the clothes around a little, holding his hand out for Finn’s jeans as he turns to face Finn. 

Finn turns away from Puck to unzip his jeans and push them off, even though Puck already saw him completely naked, in a bathtub, with ice, earlier today. After he steps out of them and hands them to Puck, he glances over his shoulder to watch Puck bend over as he adds Finn’s jeans to the mix of bathtub water, clothes, and bar soap. Puck pokes at the clothes for a few moments before fishing the remains of the bar soap out, letting the water out, and rinsing the clothes out. 

“Well, that’s as good as it’s gonna get,” Puck announces, hanging the clothes around the motel room. 

“What’d you do with all the money?” Finn asks.

“Stuffed it up my ass,” Puck deadpans. Finn startles and blinks. Puck laughs. “Nah, I took it out while you were turned around. Stuffed it under the mattress, actually.” 

“Oh, okay, cool,” Finn says.

“Guess we should get more sleep, though,” Puck says. “You’ll need more goop in the morning. I don’t think we should go back to that clinic, though.” He shuffles through the papers on the table. “Yeah, she said ‘follow up appointment’ but I think she just thought ‘extra money for Christmas this year’.”

“Okay. I think I’m feeling better now, anyway,” Finn says. 

“Yeah, just don’t get dehydrated again,” Puck agrees, pulling the sheet back on the bed before climbing in. “Turn that lamp out before you lie down, will you?”

Finn turns off the lamp and waits for Puck to get into bed and under the sheet before he lies down next to Puck. “So,” Finn begins.

“Yeah?” Puck shifts on the bed, ending up with his back to Finn, the same as how he started their earlier nap. 

“My mom’s gonna send us some passports or something?”

“She said she’s gonna figure out what paperwork we need, yeah. She seemed to think the embassy was our best chance. And not to let on to anyone official that we have any clue who did this. Not that we really do, but she seems to think we do.” 

“I don’t,” Finn says. “I mean, I don’t think any of the frat guys could get us into Mexico, and I know none of them have this much money. That’s a lot of money for a prank.”

“Yeah, I mean, since the party’s the last thing we both remember, it was probably someone _at_ the party, but that doesn’t mean it was someone from the frat.” Puck shifts position again slightly, the bed creaking. “I think your mom thinks it was a dare gone bad.”

“I wouldn’t take myself to Mexico with no shoes on purpose.”

“Yeah, I’d at least keep my shoes and my phone,” Puck agrees, sounding slightly sleepy. “’Night, Finn.” 

“’Night, Puck,” Finn says. He’s not sure when either he or Puck falls asleep, but it must be pretty quick, because he doesn’t remember lying there for too long, or Puck moving around much. When Finn wakes up at some point in the night, Puck’s spooning him again, without the mouthing and kissing on Finn’s neck this time, but with the addition of Puck’s dick pressed against Finn’s butt. 

“Uh. Dude?” Finn whispers to Puck. 

“Mmm?” Puck grunts. 

“You’re kinda, uh. Spooning me.”

“Yeah,” Puck agrees, sounding at least half-asleep. “Good.”

“Oh. So… you know?”

“You’ll do fine,” Puck says.

“Ohhhhkay,” Finn says, because how is he _supposed_ to respond to that? He doesn’t move or shove Puck off of him, though, and maybe that’s a response in and of itself. Finn doesn’t exactly snuggle back against Puck, but he doesn’t move away, either, and he falls back to sleep pretty quickly. 

When Finn wakes up in the morning, he’s hot and sweaty, with Puck draped over most of Finn’s body. Puck moves a little, like he might be waking up, and then abruptly rolls away from Finn, onto his other side. Finn stays still for a few minutes, waiting to see if Puck will say anything. The only thing that happens is Puck seems to relax slightly after a couple of those minutes, still quiet. 

Since Puck doesn’t seem like he’s going to say anything, Finn stretches and yawns. “You awake?” he asks. 

Puck yawns, possibly a fake yawn, before replying. “Maybe. Still Mexico?”

“Yeah,” Finn replies. “Still Mexico. It’s hot in here, too.”

“Guess we’ll turn the air up.” Puck rolls onto his back, wrinkling his nose. “Shower?” It’s not really clear if Puck’s offering Finn the first shower, or suggesting that the two of them shower at the same time. 

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Finn says. “Did you want to go first?”

“Nah, give my jeans longer to dry,” Puck says. He smirks without looking over at Finn. “Unless you needed some help.”

“I think I’m feeling better today,” Finn says.

“Suit yourself,” Puck says with a little shrug. “I’ll look through my notes and figure out breakfast.” 

“How many notes did you take?” Finn asks. 

“The pages were small,” Puck says, somewhat evasively. 

“Yeah, but what all did you write down?”

“Uh. Here. Restaurants. Treating sunsickness.” Puck shrugs. “Go on, shower.”

“Okay. Be out in a few,” Finn says, then walks into the small bathroom, removing the shirt hanging over the shower curtain rod, and placing it over the sink. He starts the water, waiting a few minutes for it to get hot, but it never gets past warm, so he steps into the shower and rinses off quickly. Afterwards, he dries himself with a roughly postage stamp-sized towel that doesn’t absorb the water so much as just push it around, then he pulls on his boxers, which are dry, and his T-shirt, which is still slightly damp. The jeans, as Puck predicted, are barely more dry than when Puck hung them up last night. 

Finn sighs and walks out of the bathroom. “You were right about the jeans,” he says, holding up his wet jeans.

“Damn.” Puck stands up from where he’s sitting on the side of the bed, and stretches. “That’s gonna chafe. Maybe we should go back to that store next to the cantina. I think it sold boots, but maybe they have pants, too.” He heads towards the bathroom, not shutting the door completely, and the water starts a few seconds later. After about two minutes, the sound changes from just water running to water running and the sound of Puck jerking off, grunting a little. 

Finn looks around the room, not sure if he needs to leave the room to be polite or just pretend to not notice, or if Puck really doesn’t care either way. Puck’s grunts turn into somewhat louder whines and a bitten-off moan, which means Finn now has to pretend to not notice _and_ pretend that it isn’t also kind of hot. Then Puck’s noises change again, like he’s gasping and then probably coming, before the sound goes back to just water running. If Finn had had any idea this was going to happen, he might have pre-emptively jerked off in the shower, but now he’s stuck pretending he didn’t hear any of it and didn’t react to it. 

The water cuts off after another couple of minutes, and Finn can hear Puck swear, then shake. “These towels suck!” Puck calls out the still-partially open door. “Maybe we should get a new hotel. Don’t they have Holiday Inn in Mexico?”

“Yeah, I dunno,” Finn calls back, hoping his voice sounds normal. “Maybe. Was this the only hotel you wrote down?”

“Well, I asked for the closest,” Puck admits, walking back out into the room wearing his T-shirt and carrying his jeans. “I hope that place has pants.” He looks at Finn oddly for a second. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m cool,” Finn says quickly. “Just, you know, damp.”

“Yeah.” Puck nods his agreement, reaching under the bed and pulling out their cash. He stacks up the notes from the table, too, shoving it all in his jeans before wincing and putting them on. “Okay, pants. And I guess boots couldn’t hurt, could they?”

“Probably not,” Finn agrees. He and Puck don’t really talk as the leave the motel and walk down the gravel road to a large, paved road that looks like it actually belongs in a decent-sized city. The buildings immediately to their right have a small billboard that advertises “Tarahumara Boot’s” and smaller signs on the buildings themselves for a graphics place and what looks like a pet store. 

Puck was right about the boot store also carrying jeans. The cut of the jeans is weird, and the store only carries one pair that’s close to fitting Finn. Even that pair cuts off about two inches too high, so Finn just pulls the boots on and tucks the jeans into the boots. The boots themselves are a little too big, because the store had the size bigger and the size smaller than Finn’s, but not Finn’s. Puck’s jeans and boots both fit the right way, and he looks like wearing cowboy boots is a perfectly normal thing he does.

“Let’s eat before we call your mom,” Puck suggests when they leave the store, looking up at the sun. “It might be lunchtime.”

“Do you remember how to get back to that place from last night?” Finn asks. “I can’t.”

“Yeah, but we won’t go there,” Puck says, frowning. He digs in his pocket, pulling out another scrap of paper. “Okay, we’re gonna go up this way,” he says finally, pointing up the street. “They’ve probably got a pay phone, too.” 

Finn nods. They continue walking up the street until they get to the Super Mercado Ojinaga and a restaurant called Restaurant D’Charly, which is decorated with pictures of really good-looking food. 

“Here,” Finn says, pointing at Restaurant D’Charly. 

“Yeah, and we can get some food for the room after,” Puck agrees. “Or our new hotel. That I hope we can find.” Puck slings his arm around Finn’s shoulders as they walk inside, nodding at the group of men leaving as they enter. 

One of the men snorts, nods his head in Puck and Finn’s direction, and says, “Los maricones.” Puck turns towards him, scowling, and one of the other men elbows the guy who spoke and frowns, shaking his head. 

“Viejo, no digas eso, no está bien,” the disapproving man says to the guy who spoke. Puck’s arm tightens a little on Finn’s shoulders, and he doesn’t look back at the other men as Puck and Finn walk into the restaurant. Finn does look back over his shoulder, though, and the disapproving man gives Finn an apologetic-looking head nod.

“Well, whatever that guy said, it wasn’t good,” Finn says. “ ‘Bien’ I know, at least.”

“Slang,” Puck says tersely. “I heard some of it in L.A.” 

“Do you know what huaraches is, then?” Finn asks.

Puck starts, then slowly grins and laughs. “Yeah, it’s food.” 

“Ha ha,” Finn says, without grinning back at Puck. “Very funny. Find out if it has fish or any weird meat in it.”

“Uh, _I_ speak Spanish now?” Puck protests. 

“You know slang. Maybe that’s the key!”

“Yeah, great, I can insult people.” Puck shakes his head. “Just order it and say no, um.” He frowns. “Which is the kind of vegetarian that eats fish?”

“Fishatarian?” Finn offers.

“Just tell ’em you want it pollo. That’s chicken, I know.” Puck snorts and whispers under his breath. 

“What if I don’t want chicken?” Finn asks. “Oh, yeah, wait. Carne!” He nods to himself. 

Puck snorts, then starts laughing, almost like he can’t stop. “Oh, damn,” he says. “Good grief, we—” He cuts off, still laughing. 

“We what?” Finn asks. 

“Tell ’em you want _big_ meat,” Puck suggests, not able to hold a straight face. 

“Dude,” Finn says. 

“No?” Puck asks, looking vaguely disappointed. “You don’t?”

“ _Dude._ ”

“Man, we had a whole theme going,” Puck says, shaking his head. “I’ll at least get the chicken.”

“I’ll get the carne and we’ll share,” Finn says. “I’m getting the huaraches, anyway. You get something that we know what it is.”

“More enchiladas,” Puck decides after a brief look at the menu. “We know what enchiladas are, and I like ’em.” He pushes the menu away and sits back, looking around the restaurant. “Maybe if we find a Holiday Inn, we’ll find a burger joint.”

“Maybe huaraches _is_ burgers,” Finn says. 

“Optimist,” Puck says, his voice a little weird. 

“Huaraches hater,” Finn counters, grinning back at Puck. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Puck smirks a little. “I’m gonna laugh when you get something that isn’t anything like a burger.” 

Puck orders his enchiladas, Finn orders huaraches, and then Puck does get to laugh when they bring Finn a plate with something that looks a little like soft cornbread with meat and vegetables on it. Finn just shrugs and takes a bite.

“It’s not a burger, but it’s still awesome,” Finn declares.

“Enough meat?” Puck says, trying to sound innocent. 

“Yeah. You want a bite?” Finn asks. He holds out a fork. “You want a bite of my meat, Puck?”

Puck smirks and leans forward, grabbing the fork and getting a bite on it before sliding it in his mouth with a dramatic “Mmmm.” Once he finishes, he smirks at Finn again, shaking his head, muttering to himself again. The last word is loud enough for Finn to hear, “pollo.”

“It’s _carne_ ,” Finn insists. “No chickens.”

“At least one chicken,” Puck counters. “Maybe even two.” He hands Finn back the fork and reaches for his own enchiladas again. 

“Maybe you’ve got chicken,” Finn says. “I have meat on top of mushed up cornbread.”

“Right,” Puck says, shaking his head. “I think you have to call today.” 

“I don’t wanna,” Finn whines.

“Finn. Dude.” Puck puts his fork down. “She’s gonna think I have you tied up somewhere!”

“Please don’t make me talk to my mom. _Pleeeeeease_.”

Puck studies Finn for a moment, sizing him up. “Let’s say I don’t. What do I get?”

“More of my huaraches?”

“Nowhere _near_ enough. You heard her last night!”

“I could… let you have the whole bed?” Finn offers experimentally. 

“I don’t think you’d fit in the bathtub, so you might want to think that one through a little more,” Puck points out. 

“I’ll rub your feet,” Finn says. “I bet yours hurt as much as mine do.”

“We’ll start with that,” Puck says after a moment of looking pensive. He nods a little. “I’ll be working on you with my Jedi mind tricks, too.” 

“Won’t work on me. My mind is like a brick wall.”

“I keep trying,” Puck counters. “One of these days…”

“One of these days, you’ll break through my brick wall?” Finn asks. “Gotta have something better than Jedi mind tricks.”

“Oh yeah?” Puck takes a bite of his enchilada before continuing. “Like what?”

Finn has heard Puck talk to enough girls in that tone over the years they’ve known each other. He knows what it sounds like when Puck flirts. Maybe there’s something to it. Maybe it’s just that what happens in Mexico stays in Mexico. Either way, Finn only has one comeback to that.

“Try it and find out,” Finn says, shrugging like it’s no big deal if Puck does or doesn’t.

“Maybe I will,” Puck says, smirking and raising one eyebrow. “Guess you’ll have to wait and see.” 

“Yeah, I guess so,” Finn counters. 

“Guess that means I’ve got a phone call to make,” Puck says, pushing his now-empty plate towards the middle of the table. “Order me some dessert?”

“I guess I will,” Finn says, in the same back-and-forth tone they’ve been using.

Puck laughs, standing up. “Make it good!” he calls over his shoulder. 

“Oh, I _will_!” Finn calls back. As Puck walks outside to find a payphone, Finn orders them some sopapilla, which at least he knows what it is. The sopapilla are ready before Puck gets back, and Puck is frowning when he sits down. 

“Your mom thought we were in some other city?” Puck says, looking confused. “We’re in the state but she thought we were in the city with the same name. Then there was more yelling and I’m supposed to make sure you’re brushing your teeth which, dude, _no_. You can take that up with her when we’re back in Ohio.” 

“We should buy some toothbrushes, anyway,” Finn says. He holds up the to-go container of sopapilla, and nods towards the door. “And toothpaste and shampoo. _I_ have hair to worry about.”

“I have some hair,” Puck points out. “Just not as much hair as you. I asked a woman walking past about Holiday Inn. No Holiday Inn, but…” Puck digs in his pocket and pulls out a postcard-size paper. “The hotel of penguins. Nah, it’s the ‘Hotel Canon del Peguis’.”

“Oh, it's the Hotel of Penguin Cannons?” Finn asks. “Maybe it’s a painting or something.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Puck agrees. “It can’t be worse. Want to go check it out?”

“Sure,” Finn says, shrugging. “Not like we have to worry about the money.”

“Yeah, exactly.” They walk about half a block before Puck’s arm ends up around Finn’s shoulders again, and another block or so before Puck’s thumb starts stroking slowly, like it did the day before. It takes about twenty minutes to get to the Hotel, and Puck drops his arm slowly. “I’ll go in and check it out,” he offers. 

“Cool,” Finn says. “If you aren’t out in five minutes, I’m starting on the sopapilla.”

Puck sticks his tongue out at Finn as he goes inside, but he comes back out pretty quickly, holding a key and looking both triumphant and sheepish again. “Success.”

“Yeah? _Real_ a/c?” Finn asks. 

“We’ve got a jacuzzi tina, whatever that means,” Puck says, shrugging. “I’m guessing tub. Still just one bed, though.” 

“A jacuzzi tina?” Finn repeats. “We should take a picture for actual Tina.”

“Finn…” Puck says, trailing off as he leads Finn towards the main hotel building. “We don’t have a camera.” 

“Oh yeah, we don’t have our phones. Duh. Sorry.”

“Yeah. Kinda wish we could get those back, not just replaced,” Puck admits, stopping in front of a door and opening it. “Oh, yeah, much better.” Puck flops onto the bed immediately and takes off his boots. “I was promised a foot rub.”

“Guess Mexico’s not big on rooms with two beds,” Finn says. He kicks off his own boots and sits down at the foot of the bed, eying Puck’s feet critically. “I think you should wash them first.”

“Those are brand new boots,” Puck says, then sighs dramatically. “Fine. I’ll use the jacuzzi tina. I think actual Tina would object to being used for foot washing.” Puck rolls off the bed and heads towards the tub. “We forgot to get food at the grocery store place.” 

“We can go back out later,” Finn says. “Let me know how the tina is.”

“Yeah, good plan,” Puck agrees, then the water starts running and Puck starts whistling. The whistling continues after the water cuts off, until Puck whoops. “These towels actually work!” He walks back to the bed and lies on it again. “Water actually got hot, here, too.” He nudges Finn with one foot, smirking. 

“As long as your feet are clean, doesn’t matter if the water was hot or not,” Finn says, taking one of Puck’s legs by the ankle and moving it to prop his foot on Finn’s leg. Since he hasn't exactly had a lot of foot massage practice, Finn decides the best thing to do is just rub as much of Puck’s foot as he can cover with his hands at a time. He wraps both his hands around the top of Puck’s foot, so his thumbs can press against the bottom. 

“Guess not,” Puck agrees, pulling one of the pillows under his head and then closing his eyes. “But it’ll make it nicer to shower.” 

“That’s true,” Finn says. He digs his thumbs in a little harder, up near Puck’s toes. “Is it bribery-good?”

“Jury’s still out,” Puck retorts, but his eyes are still closed, the rest of him seems pretty relaxed, and he’s half-smiling. “’Course, you’ll have to up the stakes if you want me to talk to her again tomorrow.” 

“I’ll do your back, too.”

“Maybe you missed your calling as a massage person, if that’s your first offerings,” Puck jokes. “Or you wish you could be a massage person.” 

“You think that pays pretty good?” Finn asks. He wiggles each of Puck’s toes to see if it’ll make Puck laugh. Instead, Puck lets out a very small but content sigh. 

“Dunno,” Puck says after a few moments pass, sounding a little spacey. “Guess you could check. Just don’t be the kind with the happy ending.”

“Oh. You didn’t _want_ the happy ending?” Finn asks, trying to sound like he’s just teasing. And he is just teasing. Mostly.

“It seems like a bad move professionally,” Puck says in a mock-serious voice, but he doesn’t actually answer the question. 

Finn gives Puck’s foot a final squeeze, trying not to smile, and moves it off his leg, picking up the other foot. He starts near Puck’s heel this time, slowly working up, still covering as much of Puck’s foot as possible with both his hands. 

Puck wiggles his foot a little, eyes still closed, and it’s quiet for a few minutes before Puck talks again. “You’d think we’d be bored without phones and laptops and shit, but Mexico’s not exactly boring.” 

“I think I was too sick to be bored yesterday. Today’s been good, though,” Finn says. 

“Yeah, you were out of it for awhile,” Puck agrees. “I guess we could watch some TV or something. That thing’s big enough.” 

“If you want. If the foot rubbing is getting boring.”

“Just figured you wouldn’t keep going forever.” Puck wiggles his toes and grins. “But if you want to, go ahead.”

“Yeah, we’ll just stay here in Mexico,” Finn says. “We could probably live off that cash for a long time. I’ll rub your feet and you’ll, I don’t know. Write your screenplay, maybe.”

“Maybe I’ll write a movie about two guys stuck in Mexico,” Puck jokes. “Yeah, we could stay here, and you could teach little Mexican kids English. Then they’ll get to the border and start singing Journey.” 

“I’ll have to learn ‘Don’t Stop Believin’ in Spanish,” Finn says. 

Puck grins, his eyes still closed. “Yeah, you’re probably good for that,” he says. “Guess I’ll need a crash course in non-slang Spanish, though.” He frowns. “Wonder if you need a license or something.” 

“I don’t know. I don’t even know how to look it up,” Finn admits. He wiggles the toes on this foot, getting the same content sigh, a little louder than before, and Puck stops frowning. 

“I’ll ask someone,” Puck says, sounding distracted. 

“You okay? It tickle?”

“Nope,” Puck says dreamily. 

“Nope you’re not okay or nope it doesn’t tickle?” Finn asks, wiggling Puck’s toes again and pressing his other thumb up into Puck’s arch.

“Yeah, the last one,” Puck says, sounding even more out of it. Finn looks up from Puck’s foot, and he notices Puck’s got a hard-on. 

“You want me to stop?” Finn asks, trying not to stare or anything.

“Nah,” Puck says, somewhat convincingly. “It’s good.” 

“Okay. Just let me know if you do.”

“Yeah,” Puck agrees. Finn keeps rubbing Puck’s foot for another few minutes. When he looks up at Puck again, Puck’s fallen asleep.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea, too,” Finn says, putting Puck’s foot down on the mattress. He crawls up the empty side of the bed and stretches out as much as he can without taking over Puck’s side, and lets himself close his eyes and drift off, too.

“—about Mexico, I guess,” Puck’s voice says quietly. He’s spooned up behind Finn again, his arm around Finn’s chest. “I’ve always done pretty good, I thought. Not letting on. Take me out of the country and it all falls apart.” He laughs harshly and briefly. “I’ve had enough practice. Stupid Hanukkah, junior year. That’s a long time, dude.” 

Puck pauses, his weight shifting, and Finn forces himself to hold still and keep his eyes closed, listening. Puck settles back down against Finn, his arm squeezing Finn a little. 

“Guess you could argue it meant anyone else, it was doomed. And yeah, I would’ve dropped any of ’em like a hot potato if there was a hint you’d be interested. But there wasn’t.” Puck sighs. “Still not, I guess. Just me being more obvious.” 

Finn keeps his breathing slow and regular, waiting to see if Puck will say anything else, and trying to make sense of what he just heard. Puck doesn’t seem to have anything else to say, though. Finn feels too young and too old for the information Puck just accidentally shared with him. Too young to know what to do about it in the present. Too old to go back and change anything he’s said or done in the past that left Puck feeling like that, like it’s falling apart for him to admit that stuff.

A little while passes, when Puck moves again, pressing his lips against the side of Finn’s neck. “Yeah, you probably still need to rest,” Puck says softly. His arm tightens again, then he releases Finn, rolling away. 

Finn continues to stay still for a few more minutes, and then slowly rolls towards Puck. Puck’s back is to Finn, but Finn can tell by the way he’s breathing that he’s asleep. Finn moves a little closer to Puck, resting his chin in the bend where Puck’s shoulder and neck meet. 

“I’m glad we’re here together,” Finn whispers. “Even if it sucks how we got here.” He keeps his chin on Puck’s shoulder for a while, listening to Puck breathe, and he doesn’t fall asleep again. 

Almost an hour later, Puck’s breathing changes and he starts to shuffle back and forth before one arm stretches over his head. “You awake?” Puck says through a muffled yawn. 

“Yeah, I’m awake,” Finn says. “Good nap?”

“Yeah, I’m down with the whole midday nap thing,” Puck agrees. “There’s some kind of club here, we should do that tonight.” 

“You want to inflict my dancing on a whole ’nother country?” Finn asks. 

Puck rolls onto his back and grins. “Maybe that’ll be what makes ’em send us home.” He shakes his head. “Kicked out for bad dancing.” 

“We don’t even have the right kind of clothes!”

“Yeah, that I bet we could fix,” Puck says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a wad of cash. “We can go find more clothes, get some food, have some dinner, then go out later.” He raises an eyebrow at Finn thoughtfully. “Or just different pants, maybe. We might be able to just ditch the shirts.” 

“I don’t know. The boots place didn’t have long enough jeans for me,” Finn says. “I bet my regular ones are dry now.”

“We’ll just find some that fit but are too short, cut ’em off into shorts,” Puck suggests. “Get some kind of non-blue color.”

“I don’t know about that, either,” Finn says. “I guess we can go look.”

“Can’t hurt,” Puck says almost cheerfully, sitting up. “You think they have mini golf in Mexico?”

“I wish I had my phone. I’d look it up.”

“We could do that tomorrow. The golf, I mean. Not the phone. Unless we buy new ones.” Puck shrugs and puts his boots back on. “C’mon.” 

“We have enough money to buy new phones,” Finn points out. He stands up and pulls on his boots, too. 

“Guess if we’re staying in Mexico we should have Mexican phone numbers,” Puck says, sounding like he might be joking, or might not be. He picks up the key and opens the door to the room, nodding a little. “Nice, we slept through the heat.”

“We can find some phones after we get clothes. Maybe tomorrow,” Finn says.

“Yeah, let’s find some clothes and food for now,” Puck agrees. He slings his arm around Finn like he’s been doing, leading Finn down the main road and then across the street when he spots some clothes hanging up. “Go for red,” he tells Finn. 

“Red _jeans_?” Finn asks. 

“They’re gonna be red _shorts_ ,” Puck says. “They don’t have to be jeans, I guess.” 

“I’m still not sure I’m on board with this shorts thing, dude.”

“Don’t you trust me?” Puck asks, sounding offended. 

“To pick out clothes for me? _No_ ,” Finn says. 

“Hey! Why not?” Puck demands, almost sulking. “It’s not like I’ve ever picked out something _bad_ for you to wear.” 

“You haven’t ever picked out anything for me to wear at all,” Finn counters.

“See? There’s no reason you shouldn’t trust me, then,” Puck says, still sulking. 

“No reason _to_ trust you, either.”

If possible, Puck looks even _more_ offended at that, and he sulks until they’re inside the store. “How do you say ‘red’?” he asks Finn. 

“Uh. Oh, shit, I know this one.” Finn taps on his forehead for a second. “Rojo!”

Puck grins at him, then goes to the saleswoman, pointing back at Finn. “Row-ho, uh, pants?” Puck asks, plucking at his own jeans and then pointing at Finn again. The saleswoman nods and leads Puck towards a rack of pants, smiling at him. Puck looks over his shoulder at Finn and smirks. 

“Still not sure about this,” Finn says.

“It’s great,” Puck insists, flipping through the rack and pulling out one pair of red pants, then a pair of dark green ones. “That’s your size, right?” Puck asks, gesturing to the tag on the red pants. 

“Not the length,” Finn argues. “Can’t we at least look for something that’s long enough?”

“That’s the longest they’ve got,” Puck says. “You’d get too hot in the club in pants anyway.” He turns back to the saleswoman, nodding and holding up the two pairs of pants. “Sí.” 

“I didn’t even try them on!” Finn protests.

“They’re fine,” Puck says dismissively, paying the woman and collecting the change in Mexican bills and coins. He smiles widely at the saleswoman and returns his arm to Finn’s shoulders as they leave. “Now the store, and then dinner.” He rubs his chin, the bag dangling from his wrist. “We should get razors.” 

“Yeah, I guess we look kind of scruffy,” Finn says, since there’s obviously no point in trying to argue anymore about the pants. 

“And toothpaste so your mom will feel better,” Puck muses. “They have granola bars in Mexico, right?” 

“No clue. Maybe they’re ‘bars de granola’ or something. We can look at that store.”

“Yeah, good plan,” Puck says. “Anything else we need to get?” 

“Some other food to eat, probably. Deodorant.” Finn pauses for a second. “Underwear?”

“You sure you don’t want to try commando?” Puck asks. “One less thing to wash. But good call on deodorant.” 

“I’d like to have options, is all,” Finn says.

“Yeah, okay,” Puck concedes, falling silent until they get to the store, where they each pick up a small basket. 

“Okay, so should we just look for American brands or just get what’s cheap or what?” Finn asks.

“Yeah, I think we’re okay on money,” Puck points out. 

“Just trying to be, I don’t know. Rationing.”

“Cutting ourselves on razors would suck, though. Or getting stale granola bars. Stale granola bars suck.” Puck shakes his head, like the idea of a stale granola bar is as bad as, or possibly worse than, being kidnapped and stranded in Mexico. 

“Okay, we’ll buy the stuff we recognize,” Finn says. “I’ll get the toothpaste and toothbrushes, you go look for granola bars.”

“Don’t forget the razors and deodorant,” Puck says over his shoulder. “I’ll look for some beer, too.”

“Get some beef jerky or Slim Jims or something!” Finn calls after him. Once Puck turns to go down an aisle, Finn walks towards the small selection of toothbrushes and toothpaste. He picks up a few of the boxes of toothpaste tubes and moves them, but no Colgate, just Aquafresh. He sighs and puts the Aquafresh and two toothbrushes, one blue and one green, into his basket. When he gets to the section that should have deodorant, all they have left is one stick of women’s deodorant, with a label that says it’s ‘tropical floral’ scent. Finn sniffs it. It smells like a mixed drink. He shrugs and puts it in the basket, then gets a bottle of shampoo-plus-conditioner and a bottle of sunscreen.

“Found some!” Puck says cheerfully, returning with a basket full to the brim with granola bars and beef jerky. The arm with the pants-bag is also carrying a twelve pack of beer, and Puck looks strangely pleased with himself. “Did they have nice razors?”

“Oh, I didn’t get those yet,” Finn says, holding up his basket. “I got the other stuff, though.”

“I’m gonna tell Carole about the toothbrushes first thing,” Puck says. “And I’m stocking up on granola bars before we leave here, they’re cheap.” He walks down the aisle with Finn, stopping at the razors. “Nice. Cheaper than home.” Puck picks up two razors and a can each of their brands of shaving cream, tossing them into Finn’s basket before Puck picks up the beer again. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” Finn says, nodding. They purchase all of their items with the Mexican change from the clothes store, and then they walk back towards the hotel, stopping to eat again on the way. 

When they’re back in the hotel, Finn drops the bags on the floor and falls back onto the bed. “Tired again.”

“Take a nap and I’ll put everything away,” Puck suggests. “Get our clothes ready for tonight.” 

“I feel like all I’ve done in Mexico is walk, eat, and sleep,” Finn complains, but he doesn’t actually get up from the bed. “I’m not using my time wisely.”

“It’s a little hard to take in tourist attractions without a car,” Puck says, pulling their pants out of the bag and then the food and toiletries. “But sure, we’ll work on your time management tomorrow.”

“Yeah, okay,” Finn agrees, closing his eyes. He dozes for a while to the sounds of Puck moving around the room, opening and closing drawers. Eventually, the room gets quiet, and Finn opens his eyes again, he sees Puck sitting in the armchair near the foot of the bed. “Hey,” Finn says quietly.

“Hey,” Puck says. “Good nap?”

“Yeah. I feel more rested, I think,” Finn says. 

“You want to grab some more food, then come back and change?” Puck asks. “I made shorts.” 

“Sure, sounds good,” Finn says, nodding. He stands up and stretches, scanning the room. “Where’d everything go?”

“Food’s in the drawer, razors and all of that by the sink or the tub.” Puck laughs. “By the tina. Remind me to ask your mom tomorrow how long she thinks it’s gonna take. Might want to make different plans if it’s gonna be more than a day or two.” 

Finn nods again. “Yeah, we don’t want to go through all that money in just a few days.”

“ _That_ probably isn’t going to happen,” Puck says, standing up. “But if it’s going to be a week or two, we could look for a place with weekly rent or something, you know?”

“Yeah, that’s a really smart plan!” 

Puck grins, gesturing towards the door. “Want to just eat here? There’s a buffet.”

“Sure,” Finn says. He and Puck exit the room and walk down to one of the hotel’s restaurants, Paraiso del Desierto, and start loading food from the buffet onto plates. The thought crosses Finn’s mind that it’s good he’s used to eating pretty much anything, since he’s heard all those horror stories about people getting sick eating in Mexico, or maybe it’s just drinking the water. They haven’t been drinking the water as far as Finn can remember, though, just out of water bottles, and his stomach feels fine. 

“Breakfast buffet on…” Puck frowns at the sign. “That looks like ‘Shabbat’, sort of, but is it Jew-Sabbath or Christian-Sabbath? Saturday or Sunday, anyway.”

“Saturday,” Finn says. “There’s a song for the days of the week. There’s also a song for the months.”

“I like Spanish better already.” He takes a few bites before continuing. “Maybe I need the song for the days of the week. Jury’s still out on the months.” 

“I’ll sing you the songs later,” Finn promises.

“Cool.” They get second plates of food, and then Puck looks around the restaurant. “I don’t think I realized there were this many people in the entire town,” he admits. 

“Why are so many people taking vacations _here_?” Finn asks. 

“Maybe it’s the only town in this desert, and they’re some of those eco-tourists,” Puck says. 

“Yeah, maybe so. That makes sense,” Finn says, nodding in agreement. 

“Dessert?” Puck suggests, standing up and gesturing to the dessert table. 

“Duh.”

“It’s a valid question!” Puck protests, heading towards the desserts. “You could have suffered some kind of damage from the sun.”

“Sun damage that makes me not like dessert?” Finn asks.

Puck shrugs. “Just making sure.” 

After eating dessert, they go back to the room to get ready to go out again. Finn tries not to gaze longingly at the bed, because despite all the napping, he could still sleep for three or four days. Not because of the spooning or anything, just because of the sunsickness, or at least, that’s what Finn would say if somebody asked him about it. 

“Oh, go shave before you get dressed,” Puck says. “Never thought about how just shaving made me feel cleaner, before.”

Finn squints his eyes and looks closely at Puck’s face. “You missed this whole part up here,” Finn says, gesturing to his own upper lip. 

“No, see, I’m gonna try and blend in,” Puck says. “Maybe if I have a mustache, they won’t notice how bad my Spanish is.”

“Dude, no,” Finn says.

“Why not?”

“Just because,” Finn says, still gesturing at his own face. “It’ll be all…” He waggles his fingers to try and express the thought he can’t quite put into words. “ _Mustachey_.”

Puck shrugs. “Unless I’m kissing someone and they complain, doesn’t really matter.”

Finn doesn’t have a comeback to that, at least not one he can really put together in a way that makes sense, so he just snorts and goes into the bathroom to shave, _not_ leaving a starter-mustache, quietly grumbling to himself without really paying attention to what he’s grumbling, though it might be along the lines of “I’d complain.”

When Finn comes out of the bathroom, he finds Puck standing near the bed, wearing a pair of green, Daisy Duke-length shorts. He stands and stares at Puck, not blinking, his head slowly tilting to the side as he tries to make sense of the shorts in front of him.

“Your shorts are in the chair, dude,” Puck says. 

“Where are _your_ shorts?” Finn asks.

Puck makes a face. “I didn’t want you to think your shorts were too short, see.”

“Those aren’t shorts. Those are green underwear that zips,” Finn says, then adds, “Wait. How short are mine?”

“Not this short?” Puck offers. “And they are not. I mean, I don’t have on any underwear, but I never do.”

“Uh huh,” Finn says dubiously. He approaches the chair, where he sees the red pants have in fact been cut into shorts that are less short than Puck’s, but are a whole lot shorter than any shorts Finn has ever worn. “Aw, come on, Puck. Seriously?” he asks, holding up the short-shorts. 

“They aren’t skin-tight,” Puck says defensively.

“My boxers are gonna show out the bottom!”

Puck shrugs. “Then don’t wear ’em?”

“Not everybody likes to go commando!” Finn protests.

“Cut off your boxers?” Puck shrugs again. “I just know the couple of times I went to a club in L.A., no one was wearing pants, and definitely not full-length jeans.” 

“Okay, okay,” Finn says, picking up the shorts and looking at them critically. “I’m gonna look ridiculous.”

“Nah, you’ll look—” Puck cuts himself off and snorts. “Fine. You’ll look fine.”

“Yeah, I don’t know about that,” Finn says, unfastening his jeans and letting them drop, then holding up the shorts one more time and sighing before pushing down his boxers. When he pulls the shorts on, they’re even shorter than he realized while holding them. Finn sighs again. 

“Yeah, see?” Puck says, nodding a little. “They’re fine!”

“Don't _look_ fine.”

“What do you mean?” Puck protests. “They’re longer than mine!”

“Yeah, but your legs look better. Mine are just huge and really white.”

Puck gives Finn a funny look for just a few seconds, then shakes his head. “Then you’ll just glow in the black light,” he says cheerfully. 

“Yeah, great,” Finn sighs. “Guess I’m ready if you are.”

“Awesome.” Puck picks up the room key and some of the Mexican change, putting it all in his pockets somehow. “You have to actually dance.”

“That wasn’t part of the plan!”

“What did you think you were going to do?” Puck protests as they walk towards the ‘Disco Millenium’. “Sit against the wall with a single bottle of— wait, okay, I know this one. Sir-vase-a.”

“Yeah, that was kind of my plan,” Finn admits. “Well, leaning, probably, not sitting.”

“A true active participant,” Puck deadpans, opening the door and holding it open with a flourish. Finn rolls his eyes at Puck on his way through the door, then they both walk to the dance club attached to the hotel. 

The number of people in the club surprises Finn, though he also realizes he isn’t sure which day of the week it is, or what other options might be available in Ojinaga for people who want to go dancing. The crowd looks like a mix of locals and tourists. Nobody else looks like they’ve been kidnapped and dumped in the middle of the desert, at least. 

“It’s loud,” Finn says to Puck, over the sound of the Spanish-language techno music.

“Yeah, it’s a club!” Puck calls back. “C’mon, dance. Or get a drink and then dance!” Puck heads towards the bar, clearly going for the drink first, and turns around to hand Finn a beer. Puck chugs his own beer, setting it down on the bar and heading into the crowd of people dancing. 

Finn drinks his beer, standing at the edge of the crowd, watching Puck dance, though not with any particular person. Puck looks like he’s enjoying himself, at least as long as no one is speaking to him. When they do, he frowns and shakes his head, and Finn can see him mouthing ‘English’. 

After twenty minutes or so, Puck comes over to Finn, shaking his head mock-sadly. “C’mon, dance. No one’s gonna make fun of you or whatever.” 

“I’m just not a dancer,” Finn protests.

“Yeah, but you don’t have to do, like, choreography,” Puck says, grabbing Finn’s wrist and tugging on him. “Just moving around.” 

“Okay,” Finn says, letting Puck drag him out to the dance floor, where Finn just sort of moves awkwardly while Puck dances. 

Puck ends up moving away from Finn slowly as he dances with different people around them, and at one point, someone must tell Puck something in English, because he throws his head back and laughs. Finn scowls and starts to go after Puck, then stops when he realizes he’s suddenly, randomly jealous of whoever it is who just made Puck laugh. He stands there, scowling in Puck’s direction, while people dance all around him.

After another few minutes, Finn loses sight of Puck entirely, even though he squints and looks around the whole dance floor, which he has a decently good view of since he’s taller than everybody else there. A mix of worry, jealousy, and even a little bit of anger starts to well up, as Finn pictures whoever it is brought them to the desert to begin with finding Puck and taking him, or some girl dragging Puck off into a dark corner, or Puck just deciding he was bored and leaving Finn there in the dance club in his ridiculous red shorts. 

Puck reappears after five or ten minutes, looking perfectly healthy, smiling, and somewhat sweaty. “Hey!” 

“Hey,” Finn replies grudgingly, his brow still furrowed. 

“Did someone ugly hit on you or something?” Puck asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“No. I didn’t know where you were.”

Puck gives Finn a weird look. “It’s crowded in here,” he points out. 

“Yeah, well, I was worried,” Finn says. “We did sort of get kidnapped two days ago.”

“Let’s get more beer,” Puck says with a shrug, steering Finn back to the bar and ordering two more bottles of beer. Puck chugs the second bottle in two gulps, unlike the first one, and then turns to Finn. “C’mon, dance some more.” 

“Sure, whatever,” Finn says. “Don’t let me get in the way of you having a good time.”

Puck rolls his eyes at Finn and pulls him back towards the dancing. The same girl who made Puck laugh before comes up to him again, saying something else that makes Puck smile and then chuckle a little. Finn grabs Puck’s arm and pulls him away, and Puck gives him a look, like he can’t decide what Finn is doing. 

Finn doesn’t let go of Puck’s arm, even though they’re standing very close together, Finn still scowling. Puck shrugs after a moment, grabbing Finn’s arm in return. “Dance with me,” he says. 

“I don’t know how,” Finn insists, his hand still on Puck’s arm.

“Just… if you don’t know how, or you won’t, why won’t you let me go dance with someone who does know how, or wants to?” Puck asks over the music, his mouth close to Finn’s ear. 

“I don’t want you to,” Finn says. 

Puck doesn’t say anything for a moment, his mouth still almost touching Finn’s ear, and they stand still in the middle of the dancing. When the music pauses for a few seconds, Puck starts talking again. “I don’t know what you do want,” he says, sounding almost defeated. 

“I don’t, either,” Finn admits. “But I don’t want you to dance with somebody else.”

“Should we just leave?” Puck asks with a sigh. 

Finn puts his other hand on Puck’s other arm. “I’ll dance with you. If you really want me to.”

“Like I said, it’s not choreography,” Puck says, starting to move as the music starts again. Puck’s hands move to Finn’s hips as the beat picks up, and Finn lets Puck pull him closer. Puck guides Finn with the music, and during the first part of the song, Puck gets closer and closer until his hips are pressed up against Finn’s. “Loosen up,” Puck says into Finn’s ear. “Just have fun.” 

“I’ve never danced for fun,” Finn says, tilting his head to talk back into Puck’s ear. 

Puck makes a loud popping noise. "First time for everything, right?" His body shifts with the music, and then Puck’s hard-on is pressed against Finn’s hip. He doesn’t seem to notice or react, and just keeps dancing with Finn. Finn doesn’t pull away, mostly because he’s less surprised by Puck’s hard-on pressing against him than he is surprised by how it doesn’t bother him. It’s even kind of hot. 

One of Puck’s hands slides from Finn’s hip to Finn’s lower back, and as more songs play, Puck somehow seems to get even closer to Finn. Finn moves his hands up Puck’s upper arms, finally draping his own arms over Puck’s shoulders while they dance. Puck moves into Finn’s arms, still guiding Finn’s hips with one hand, and the hand on Finn’s back slowly goes down until it’s almost cupping Finn’s ass. Puck squeezes gently, his face not giving anything away. 

Finn leans forward and rests his forehead against Puck’s, closing his eyes, giving himself over to whatever is going to happen, because it’s Mexico, it’s hot, and it’s just them. Puck’s hand squeezes again, the fingers on Finn’s hip tightening, and Finn can hear Puck’s ragged breathing, even over the music. Puck mumbles something incomprehensible, pulling Finn tight against him.

“So, now what?” Finn asks, loud enough that he hopes Puck can hear him. 

“Now…” Puck trails off. “Now we dance until we’re ready to fall over,” he says after a few minutes. “Unless you want to drink more and also dance until we fall over.” 

“Do _you_ want to drink more?”

Puck sighs. “Probably not smart to get drunk in a club in Mexico, not this week.”

“Keep dancing, then?” Finn asks.

“Keep dancing,” Puck agrees. 

“Till we fall over?”

“Save just enough to make it to the bed,” Puck says. 

Finn knows that Puck just means to get back to the room and go to sleep, but his heart still does a little flip anyway, because for just a split second, Finn thought Puck meant something else. “Yeah,” Finn says softly. Puck might not even hear him, it’s so soft. Puck doesn’t reply, or say much of anything, really, as they keep dancing in the same spot in the middle of the dance floor. 

After what feels like hours, the music suddenly comes to a stop and the lights come on, and most of the other people in the club start walking towards the exit. Puck’s hand leaves Finn’s ass, and he pulls away half a step, his eyes blinking and watching Finn. Finn doesn’t move, and they may have just ended up standing in the middle of the club for another few hours staring at each other, but the DJ taps his microphone and says, “¡Oye! Amigos? No tienen que ir a casa, pero no pueden quedarse aquí.”

“What?” Finn says, not turning his head to look at the DJ.

“You don’t have to go home,” the DJ says, “but you can’t stay here.”

“Ready to fall over?” Puck says quietly. 

“Yeah,” Finn says. He puts his arm around Puck’s shoulders to hold him close as they start towards the door. Puck leans into Finn, his head touching Finn’s shoulder, and after they step through the door, Puck starts fumbling in his pockets. 

“Found it,” he says after a few moments, holding up the room key. “Tomorrow we’ll go get new phones.” 

“Yeah, sounds good,” Finn says, feeling a little light-headed, but not in a bad way, like with the sunsickness. He has no clue what to do from here, how to bring it to the next level, what the next level is, even, but he _wants_ to. He pulls Puck against him again, like they were in the club, their bodies pressed together.

“What else sounds good?” Puck asks after a few more steps, still staring straight ahead. 

Finn’s breath catches. “I thought— I thought we only saved enough to make it to bed,” he says. 

“Technically we were cut off before we could get there,” Puck says thoughtfully, stopping at their door and unlocking it. “Think we’d’ve had to dance more, right?” 

“Oh. Yeah,” Finn says quietly. “Yeah, I guess so.” He’d thought that maybe Puck meant something by all the dancing, the touching, but apparently Finn misinterpreted everything horribly. He shouldn’t feel disappointed. He does, anyway. “Yeah,” he says again, even more softly. 

“Nice shorts,” Puck says after dropping the key on the table. “I didn’t do too bad, did I?” 

Finn shakes his head slowly. He disentangles himself from Puck and falls onto the bed, kicking his shoes off. Puck moves around in the dark room for a little bit before lying down next to Finn on the bed. Puck doesn’t roll with his back to Finn, but ends up on his back, his hand and shoulder not quite touching Finn. 

Finn waits to see if Puck will do or say anything, but when Puck doesn’t, Finn says, “Well, goodnight.”

Puck’s reply is barely audible. “’Night, Finn.” Puck is silent for five or ten minutes before his breathing changes, like he’s asleep, and within two minutes, Puck rolls over, his arm going around Finn’s chest as he spoons Finn from behind, just like the night before. 

Finn sighs and moves his shoulders to snuggle back against Puck slightly. “What am I supposed to do with you?” Finn says, sighing. Puck snuggles against Finn, his arm squeezing a little, and Finn rolls towards Puck, so he’s flat on his back with Puck’s head against Finn’s chest and Finn’s arm around Puck. Puck lets out a larger, louder version of the content foot-rubbing sigh. 

Finn smiles and runs his hand along Puck’s back. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” Finn says quietly. “I don’t know what this is. Maybe I’m reading it all wrong.” 

Puck’s face falls into a half-frown, and Puck’s hand almost seems like it’s patting Finn’s chest.

“I don’t know,” Finn says again. “I don’t know if it’s me or you or if it’s just Mexico. Maybe…” He sighs and moves his head to rest it on top of Puck’s. “Eventually we’ve got to go back, and then what? Then you’ll change your mind?”

Puck seems to get heavier, like he’s squeezing Finn again, and his head moves a little, almost a shake of the head. 

“No point in trying to argue with people who’re asleep,” Finn says. “You probably think we’re talking about girls or Star Wars or something. It’s just, I really thought— it doesn’t matter what I thought, I guess. I read it wrong. I misunderstood. Surprise, right?”

Puck’s head shakes again, his fingers pulling at Finn’s T-shirt, and his leg drapes over Finn’s legs suddenly. 

“You’re just the only one left, you know? You’re the only one who gets me. It’s just you and me,” Finn whispers, moving his hand to gently pet Puck’s hair. “You and me and Mexico.”

Puck exhales softly, almost like he’s agreeing with Finn, and the half-frown on his face turns into a small smile. 

“Maybe they’ll lose our passports,” Finn says. 

Puck’s smile looks like it gets a little bigger, and his hand pats Finn’s chest again. 

“Goodnight,” Finn says, closing his eyes. “I’ll try to figure it out better tomorrow.”

There’s no sound for at least three or four minutes, not even outside the room, when Puck suddenly speaks, his voice sounding half-asleep. “I love you.” 

“Yeah, me too,” Finn says, resting his face against the top of Puck’s head. “Me too.”

Puck startles a little, his hand pulling on Finn’s shirt and his muscles tightening, then his body relaxes again, almost like he’s forcing it to. Finn doesn’t say anything else. He does hold Puck a little more tightly before he drifts off to sleep, though.

“Beef jerky and granola bar, breakfast of champions,” Puck’s voice says in Finn’s ear, almost cooing. 

“Am I in prison?” Finn grumbles. “That sounds like prison food.”

“I just can’t stomach another enchilada for breakfast,” Puck admits. “Two granola bars, hold the jerky?”

“I want cereal. I want milk. I want orange juice.”

“We’ll have it in two days,” Puck promises. “Either in the US or Mexico. Just in case, though, what’s ‘milk’ in Spanish?”

“Hell if I know,” Finn says. 

“I’m going to buy some Spanish apps on my new Mexican phone,” Puck says, standing up and stretching. “And some new shirts, I like this T-shirt but not that much.” 

Finn glares blearily at Puck. “You missed your lip again.”

“You just wish you’d thought of it first,” Puck retorts. “Now you can’t have a mustache because you’d just be copying me.” 

“Yeah, that’s totally it.”

“Should I go for the full-on look with the belt, you think?” Puck asks. 

“Yeah, get a ten-gallon hat and some spurs and a rattlesnake while you’re at it,” Finn says, grumpily. 

“Why would I buy spurs unless we’re buying hor— are we buying horses?” Puck asks. 

“Some people are into spurs,” Finn says. “Maybe that’s what you’re looking for.”

“Yeaaah, okay,” Puck says, taking a step back. “I’ll just leave the granola bars and go look for some of that orange juice, okay?” 

“Yeah, whatever you want to do,” Finn says, pulling a pillow over his head. Puck takes a few steps, pauses, then heads out the door. Once the door closes, Finn moves the pillow from his head, then huffs and throws the pillow onto the ground. It’s just like Puck, acting serious about something one minute, and forgetting about it the next. If that’s how he’s going to be, pretending like none of the stuff at the club happened, then it’s probably good all they did when they got back to the room is fall asleep. 

Fifteen minutes or so pass before Puck unlocks the door and walks in. “Orange juice?” he says, lifting one hand, which is holding a cup the size of a Polar Pop at the Circle K, except presumably full of orange juice. It’s the Puck version of a peace offering.

“Hey,” Finn says sheepishly. “Sorry about the spurs thing.”

“It’s fine,” Puck says, setting the orange juice down. “But I’m not into that. Just in case you wanted to know,” he says quickly. 

“I didn’t really think you were,” Finn says. 

“Good.” Puck sits down in the armchair, then looks at Finn suspiciously. “Wait, _you’re_ not secretly into it, are you?”

“ _Dude_ , no,” Finn says. 

“Okay, good, just checking.” Puck shakes his head a little. “Didn’t _think_ so, but I guess I never asked, right?” He frowns. “Anything I wouldn’t think to ask about?”

“Huh?”

“Watersports is a dealbreaker,” Puck says, looking completely serious. 

Finn squints at Puck in confusion. “What?”

“Kinks, Finn,” Puck says. “Spurs, watersports, I don’t know. Whips and chains.”

“Oh,” Finn says. He blushes a little, adding, “I don’t think I have any.”

“No,” Puck says, shaking his head. “You do. You just don’t know them yet, I guess. But seriously, watersports? No. No piss.”

“I thought you meant like skiing or something! Or that one with the nets. Water polo!”

“That’d be exhibitionism,” Puck says thoughtfully. 

“No, I really don’t think I have any,” Finn insists. 

“No take-backs on the watersports, at least, then,” Puck says with a sigh. “Drink your orange juice.” 

“Yeah, okay,” Finn says, eyeing Puck warily and picking up the cup of orange juice. “This is a lot of orange juice.”

Puck shrugs. “It was going to cost the same no matter how much I brought back, and I figured you might be thirsty.” 

“Thanks,” Finn says. He drinks some of the orange juice, then holds the cup out to Puck. “Want some?”

“Sure,” Puck says, taking the cup and downing some of it before handing it back. “I went ahead and called your mom.” 

“What’d she say?”

“We’re gonna have to go to… some other city, for the consulate, eventually. But she’s gotta send them our birth certificates and our drivers’ licenses, shit like that, and it won’t be just one visit to the consulate, probably. So we should probably get a weekly place, like I said.” Puck pauses, like something’s just occurred to him. “Well, do you want to get one here? Or in the city with the consulate?”

“City with the consulate probably makes more sense, but…”

“Yeah, I kinda like it here,” Puck agrees. “Okay, so today we should find a place and get some phones.” He looks at Finn for a minute, then cuts his eyes away. “Should we look for a studio, one-bedroom, something like that, or…?” 

“No reason to waste the money on anything real big,” Finn says. “We’ve been fitting in these rooms just fine.”

“Yeah,” Puck says slowly. “You’re sure? No take-backs if you decide you can’t sleep with a mustache or something.” His tone is light, like he’s trying to joke, but it doesn’t quite sound like joking. 

“If I can’t sleep with a mustache, the mustache will go,” Finn says in his serious voice, nodding his head slowly. 

“You sound like Mr. Miyagi,” Puck says, raising an eyebrow and looking amused. “What if it’s not something as easy to get rid of as a mustache?”

“You gonna grow a tail or something?”

Puck half-smiles, then shakes his head, looking almost sad. “Maybe so.” 

“I guess if it’s a useful tail, that’d be okay,” Finn says. “Like a monkey tail or something. Not a mule tail.”

Puck looks offended. “I don’t want to be a mule!” 

“Fine. Jackass.”

“After everything I’ve done for you,” Puck says in a mock-offended tone. “Giraffe.” 

“You could have a tail like a jackass,” Finn says. “You said they were better than mules.”

“Can I just skip the tail?” Puck asks, standing up from the armchair and walking over to drop onto the bed next to Finn. “Seriously. I need you to be sure.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure. I said one room is good, and I mean it, okay?” Finn says. “I know you won’t really grow a tail.”

“No,” Puck says quietly. “But I might do this.”

Finn frowns and tilts his head. “Do what?”

Puck’s hand comes up to the back of Finn’s neck, and Puck half-grins for a second. “This,” he says, leaning in and kissing Finn. 

Finn’s eyes widen and he holds perfectly still, feelings Puck’s lips against his. Puck keeps kissing him, his lips barely parted against Finn's, and the fingers on Finn's neck flex. Finn lets himself relax, gives himself permission to lean a little pressure into the kiss. Puck's other hand goes to Finn's waist, tugging a little on Finn's shirt as he grabs it, and the tip of Puck's tongue barely touches to Finn's upper lip.

Finn opens his mouth in response, his own tongue darting out to touch Puck’s. Puck whimpers against Finn’s mouth, the kiss abruptly changing from slow and gentle to harder and almost desperate. Finn rests his hand on top of Puck’s thigh and brings his other hand up to the side of Puck’s face, kissing Puck back just as hard. 

Puck whines again, his mouth opening wider and his tongue almost pushing against Finn’s, and his hand goes up the back of Finn’s head, his fingers grabbing Finn’s hair. The hand on Finn’s waist moves down to cover Finn’s hand, and Puck shifts closer to Finn. Finn moves his hand away from Puck’s face so he can put his arm around Puck, holding onto him as they kiss. Puck leans back, pulling Finn with him, their lips still connected, and once they’re lying down, Puck rolls just enough to pull Finn completely on top of him. 

Finn pulls away just a little, staring down at Puck as they both breathe heavily. After a few seconds, Finn says, “The mustache has to go.”

“As in, I should get up right now, or later?” Puck asks. 

“No, later’s good,” Finn says. “Don’t get up right now.”

“Yeah, I didn’t want to get up right now,” Puck agrees, tugging Finn’s head back down and wrapping his other arm around Finn’s neck. He starts kissing Finn again, just as hard, and the rest of Puck arches up a little, pressing against Finn. Finn can feel Puck’s hard-on pressing against him, and it makes him feel light-headed in an awesome way. He puts his other arm around Puck, too, and pulls Puck against him harder. 

“So awesome,” Finn says against Puck’s mouth.

“Yeah,” Puck says, nodding slightly. “Can I take your shirt off?” 

“Yeah,” Finn says, nodding back. “Yours too.”

“Good idea.” Puck’s hands slide under Finn’s T-shirt, working it up, and when he gets to Finn’s arms, he stops and waits for Finn to pull his arms out, then moves it up over Finn’s head. “Maybe all of our clothes?” he says while Finn’s T-shirt is over his face. 

“Do the shorts really count as clothes?” Finn teases, mostly to cover up the fact that he’s blushing a little. 

“Not if they’re off,” Puck retorts, tossing Finn’s T-shirt into the floor and raising an eyebrow questioningly as his hands skim down Finn’s sides. Finn nods, and Puck unfastens Finn’s shorts before starting to push them off Finn’s hips and down Finn’s thighs. “See, now they’re not,” Puck says, sounding a little strained. 

“Yeah,” Finn agrees faintly. Puck pushes the shorts as far as he can, and then he moves one hand to Finn’s back and the other wraps around Finn’s cock. 

“This okay?” Puck asks, moving his hand very slowly. 

“Yeah, yeah that’s awesome,” Finn says, breathing even harder. “This is for sure what you want?”

“You have _no_ idea,” Puck says. “This is what I want, so fucking bad.” His hand speeds up a little, squeezing with the movement. 

“I thought I was reading it all wrong,” Finn says. He starts pulling Puck’s T-shirt up, even though it means Puck’ll have to take his hand off Finn’s cock for a second, which is pretty much tragic. Puck lifts his head and chest so Finn can work the T-shirt up over Puck’s head and then down his arms. As soon as the shirt is off, Puck puts his hand right back on Finn’s cock again. 

“No,” Puck says firmly, resuming the stroking from before. “You should probably know I’m stupid in love with you.” 

“Really?” Finn asks. He closes his eyes, trying to split his focus between Puck’s voice and the way Puck’s hand feels on him. 

“For years,” Puck says, sounding almost guilty. 

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Finn asks. 

Puck snorts, his hand speeding up again. “What was I supposed to say? Break up with your girlfriend and come with me instead?” He pauses. “Oh, fuck, I did sort of say that at least once, didn’t I?” 

“Yeah,” Finn says, smiling. “You sort of did, but I was too dumb to understand.” He gasps and lets out a little noise as Puck’s hand keeps moving. “Shit, Puck, that’s so awesome.”

“I’ve got a whole list,” Puck says, using his other hand to pull Finn’s head down, and he plants open-mouthed kisses on Finn’s neck, over and over. “A long one.” 

“Yeah? List of things to say?” Finn asks, tilting his head to give Puck better access to his neck. 

“To do. To you, with you.” Puck moves his mouth to the top of Finn’s shoulder, then along his collarbone. “Fuck, I’d better not be dreaming.” 

“D’you spike the orange juice?” 

“No,” Puck answers, sounding confused. 

“Just checking, ’cause if you’re dreaming, I’m dreaming, too,” Finn says. “So unless you spiked the orange juice, I think it’s for real.”

“Okay. Good.” Puck kisses up Finn’s neck and then down his jaw. “You want to help me with my list? I didn’t write it down, it’s in my head.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I want to help with the list,” Finn says. He runs his hands down Puck’s side. 

“Good, yeah, good,” Puck rambles, his hand still moving on Finn’s cock, and he kisses Finn on the lips again before pulling back. “Tell me if you’re gonna come, don’t want you to come yet.” Puck keeps kissing Finn’s neck and jaw in between words, sloppy open-mouthed kisses, and his free hand moves down Finn’s back all the way to Finn’s ass. Finn makes breathy moaning noises that would embarrass him if he made them in front of anybody else, but this is Puck, and Finn would make any noise, no matter how embarrassing, to let Puck know how good this feels.

“Soon,” Finn says, nuzzling against the side of Puck’s face. “Really soon.”

Puck's hand immediately slows down, his other hand gently squeezing Finn's ass. "No, not yet," Puck insists, still kissing all over Finn's shoulders and neck. "Fuck, Finn, don't— I can't let it be just once."

“I’m good for more than one, I swear!” Finn says. 

Puck laughs for just a second before pulling Finn into another deep kiss. When he pulls back, he's grinning and shaking his head. "Yeah, that's one reason," he says almost to himself. "Meant like one day or something, Finn."

Finn lifts his hips off the bed, thrusting into Puck’s hand. “Why would it just be one day? Puck, don’t go _slow_!”

"Okay, okay," Puck says, still grinning as he speeds his hand back up. "I won't drag it out. This time." His hand gets tighter as he kisses Finn hard.

“Yes, yes, oh fuck, yes,” Finn says against Puck’s lips, his voice getting louder and louder. “Puck, I’m gonna come, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t—” Finn breaks off into a loud cry as he starts to come in Puck’s hand.

“Yeah, yeah, like that,” Puck says, still moving his hand fast over Finn’s cock, and he pulls Finn against him with his other hand. When Finn stills, Puck moves his come-covered hand from Finn’s cock and puts it to his own mouth, slowly licking the come off, his eyes on Finn. 

“Holy shit, Puck,” Finn says. His entire body feels boneless against the bed, and he’s not sure he could really move even if he wanted to. 

“Yeah?” Puck says, a little bit of a smirk on his face, and he puts his arm around Finn. 

“ _Yeah_ ,” Finn assures him. “That was just…” He sighs and relaxes even more, though he does pull Puck against him, too. 

“Yeah.” Puck rolls them until they’re on their sides, and Puck puts his head against Finn’s upper arm. “So the mustache has to go, huh?” 

“Only if you want me to keep kissing you,” Finn says, like that would ever be a reasonable option.

“It didn’t seem to bother you too much just now,” Puck points out with a grin. “Maybe you should give it a fair chance.” 

“Nah, you had the whole it being _you_ thing going for you that time,” Finn says. “Next time, I’ll notice it more.”

“You might, or you might decide you even.” Puck stops and drops his voice to a whisper. “ _Like it._ ” 

“No.”

“Spoilsport,” Puck says, then kisses Finn again. “Oh, hey, I’m still in my jeans,” he says, like he just realized it. 

“Yeah, that’s dumb. You should _not_ be in your jeans,” Finn says. 

“I think you’re right,” Puck agrees, unfastening his jeans and removing them, then sliding back up against Finn. “Better?” 

Finn looks down at Puck’s hard-on. “Wow. Is that because of me?”

Puck snorts. “Duh.” He rocks in place just a little, pressing his cock against Finn. “I told you, I’ve been stupid in love with you for years now.” 

Finn starts to reach out, then pulls his hand back. “Can I touch it?”

“Uh, yeah. Please.” 

Finn reaches out again, touching the head of Puck’s cock with his fingertips. “Oh,” he say softly, running his thumb down the shaft.

“Good or bad oh?” Puck asks. 

“I never really thought about how dicks feel, is all,” Finn says. “Like, other people’s, you know? Kind of the same, kind of different.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Puck agrees, his cock nudging against Finn’s hand. 

“Well, I mean, it feels like a dick,” Finn continues, “but different because it’s yours, so, you know, I’m not controlling it.”

“It could probably be argued we’re rarely in control of our _own_ dicks,” Puck says. “But yeah, that feels good.” 

Finn wraps his hand loosely around Puck’s cock. “How do you like to be touched?” he asks. 

Puck frowns for a moment, like he’s never really thought about it. “This is good, but tighter’s good too. Not too…” He tilts his head for just a second. “Sloppy?” 

“I think it’s gonna maybe get sloppy either way,” Finn says. He tightens his hand around Puck’s cock and starts stroking it slowly. “Is this okay?”

Puck laughs. “Nah, that’s messy, not sloppy,” he says, nodding his head. “And yeah, that’s good.” He looks down at Finn’s hand on his cock, then back at Finn, then back down. 

“Can I kiss you while I’m doing it?”

“Yeah, that’s good, too,” Puck agrees, tilting his face back up towards Finn. Finn puts his mouth on Puck’s, feeling the rough prickle of Puck’s ridiculous starter-mustache, the soft and slightly chapped skin of Puck’s lips. He kisses Puck slowly, moving his lips and tongue against Puck’s while he keeps moving his hand at the same steady pace. Finn feels a little drunk or high, like kissing Puck is making him feel light-headed and heavy at the same time. 

Finn breaks away from the kiss briefly to look at Puck’s face. “I didn’t know how much I wanted this,” Finn says before immediately putting his lips on Puck’s again. 

Puck’s arms tighten around Finn, like he’s trying to merge their bodies together, and he thrusts his cock forward slightly, into Finn’s hand. “This is so awesome,” Puck mumbles. “So fucking awesome.” 

“Yeah,” Finn agrees. He doesn’t know what a sloppy handjob is, really, and he hopes that he’s not giving Puck one, but the kissing is a little sloppy, slow and deep. Finn can hear Puck breathing through his nose while they kiss, making little whimpery noises, and Finn realizes his own cock is starting to get hard again just from kissing and touching Puck. 

“Fuck,” Puck says against Finn’s lips. “I love you.” One of Puck’s hands ends up on Finn’s ass again, squeezing. “Loved you for so long.” 

“Wish I’d known,” Finn murmurs back between kisses. “Wish you’d told me.” 

“Scared,” Puck admits. “Didn’t want to lose you completely.” 

“You couldn’t ever,” Finn says. His chest feels tight, like he’s feeling too many different things at once, and he tightens the arm around Puck’s body, holding him close, still slowly moving his other hand on Puck’s cock. 

“Didn’t want to test it,” Puck says, kissing Finn with a little more force. 

“I didn’t know. I didn’t know,” Finn says. He can barely breathe from kissing, his mouth and Puck’s coming together again and again, the kisses getting more frantic, almost rough. Finn moves his hand faster on Puck’s cock, pressing his own cock against Puck’s hip. “I didn’t know,” Finn repeats. 

“It’s good,” Puck says. “We’re good. We’re good.” Puck is clinging to Finn, thrusting into Finn’s hand. “We’re so good.”

“Yeah we are,” Finn agrees. “And you’re gonna come, and we’ll be _great_.”

Puck chuckles for a few seconds. “Yeah, we’re—” he starts to say, then cuts off, his breathing coming in short little gasps as he thrusts harder into Finn’s hand. 

“I love you, Puck,” Finn tells him quietly. Puck cries out, coming hard with his fingers almost digging into Finn’s back. When he’s still, he curls up against Finn, then starts slowly kissing Finn’s chest. 

“New plan for today,” Puck mumbles a few minutes later. 

“Is it doing this all day long?” Finn asks, lazily wiping his hand on the edge of the blanket. 

“Yeah. Something like it, anyway.” Puck kisses Finn’s chest a few more times before continuing. “Told you I had a list.” 

“Yeah, you did,” Finn says, laughing at the way Puck’s kisses tickle because of the starter-stache. “What else is on the list?”

“Well, there’s blow jobs,” Puck says lazily. “Mouth all over you, really. Plenty of variations there, too.” His hand slides down Finn’s side. “ _All_ over you. More hand jobs. Fucking.” 

Finn’s breath catches at that last one. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Puck’s hand stops on Finn’s hip. “You want to know how I knew?” 

“How?”

“Junior year,” Puck says quietly, his hand stroking Finn’s hip. “Rabbi said something at Hanukkah service, I don’t even remember what it was anymore, but it made me _think_ and a few days later, it was like that damn burning bush story. I realized that I wanted to fuck you.” Puck hand stops moving, squeezing his hip gently. “Because I was in love with you. But yeah, I just…” He shakes his head against Finn’s chest. “Probably good it was winter break.” 

“Yeah,” Finn says. “So… you want to fuck me?” he asks, surprised by how pitchy his voice sounds. 

“Yeah.” Puck squeezes Finn’s hip again. “I mean, I’m not trying to get you to bend over right now or anything. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to.” 

“So, you should… tell me more about it. The stuff you want to do,” Finn says. 

“You mean more of the list, or more details?” 

Finn feels his face turning a little red. “Details.”

“Okay. Cool.” Puck kisses Finn’s chest, then his collarbone. “I want to give you like, the best blow job. Ever.” Puck drags his fingertips up Finn’s cock. “Take as much of you in my mouth as I can, one of my hands on your balls, sucking and licking.” 

“Oh,” Finn says softly. “Yeah, okay, that sounds awesome.”

“Yeah,” Puck agrees. “And after you come once, I’ll flip you over, if you want that.” Puck’s fingers make a slow, lazy circle on Finn’s lower stomach, then down the length of Finn’s cock. “I could use my tongue. I’ve never done that, but I could. If you wanted me to.” 

“Uh huh,” Finn says faintly, since he’s not sure if he does or not, but the idea of it is interesting. 

“And my fingers,” Puck says, a little more quietly. “I’ve thought about that a lot. Watching your face.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Puck’s hand slides down onto one side of Finn’s ass. “I’ll make you feel so good,” he promises. “It’ll be awesome.” 

“Have you ever—”

“Either way? Or both?” Puck asks, rolling back just enough to look straight at Finn. “Yes, and just fingers.” 

“Do you like it?” Finn asks. “The fingers, I mean.”

“Yeah. Sometimes I try using my own, but the angle’s weird.” Puck shrugs a little. “Trust me, though, it’s good.” 

“Okay. We don’t have to do it right away?”

“No.” Puck grins a little at Finn. “Just let me know, ’cause I’m not a mind-reader.” 

“Okay,” Finn says, nodding and smiling back. “But we can do the hand job again right now if you want.”

Puck’s grin gets wider. “Yeah, that sounds awesome.” 

It’s past noon and the sun is hotter than hell by the time Finn and Puck leave the hotel room again. Puck seems like he’s in a great mood, which puts Finn in an even better mood than he already was, and when they ask the lady at the front desk where they can find phones, she smiles at both of them and tells them where to go. Finn puts his arm over Puck’s shoulders as they walk a few blocks up the street to the electronics store, where they walk away with two very nice, prepaid smartphones.

“Teléfono inteligente,” Finn proclaims proudly, after reading it off one of the signs outside the store. “Oh, yes! We can use translate now!”

“I’m buying a teach-me-Spanish app,” Puck says. “Hey, if Mexicans in American are Mexican-Americans, are we like Ameri-Mexicans or something?”

“If we stay here? I guess so,” Finn says. “I hadn’t really thought about it past you not growing a mustache. Which, you still didn’t shave it off, you know.”

“Yeah, funny how you kept forgetting about it,” Puck says. “Ooh, this one’s got five stars. I’m thinking you never really gave the mustache a chance.” 

“Dude, why does your screen have a cartoon cat on it?” 

“It’s teaching me Spanish! That’s _el gato_.”

“No, it’s a cat,” Finn insists. “Wait, is that a Spanish app for kids?”

“I don’t need to learn rules of grammar or literature or whatever,” Puck says. “Colors, conversation, days of the week, which you still didn’t sing for me.” Puck shrugs. “Figured kids’ apps actually had what I needed.” 

Finn looks at Puck’s phone again. “Which one is it?”

Puck pokes around on Finn’s phone for a minute. “There, it’s downloading. And c’mon, sing me the days of the week song.” 

“Fine,” Finn says, then proceeds to sing it loudly as they walk down the street, Finn’s arm around Puck’s shoulders again, and Puck’s arm around Finn’s waist. They get honked at by three different trucks. The driver of the third truck gives them a thumbs up. Finn grins back at him. “Everybody here’s so nice.”

“Most people, yeah,” Puck agrees. “You want to eat, ask about places for rent? I figured we wanted a place with a kitchenette at least. And air conditioning.” 

“It’ll suck if we leave the hotel for good before we use the jacuzzi tina, though,” Finn says. “Can we jacuzzi later?”

“Sure. We’re paid up through tonight at least. Anyway, I don’t think they usually let you move in the same day,” Puck says thoughtfully. “I guess we need a furnished place.”

“I saw at least one place selling furniture,” Finn says.

“I guess we could,” Puck says, shrugging. “Guess it depends on how long we’re thinking about staying.”

“I figure it’ll take a while to get the paperwork stuff sorted out, plus this semester’s probably already blown,” Finn says. “How long do you _want_ to stay?”

Puck shrugs again. “I mean, think about the exchange rate. We could work for a few months back in Lima, and live off of it for another six months or more down here.” 

“Go back and work a couple of months around Thanksgiving, Hanukkah, and Christmas?”

“Yeah, something like that. I mean, it doesn’t exactly cost us much in Lima.” 

Finn nods. “Stay with my mom and Burt for the holidays. Most expensive part’ll be getting back and forth.”

“Yeah, but we probably still have our stuff in Lima. I don’t think we got kidnapped _and_ robbed.” 

“Cheap to travel on your bike,” Finn says, nodding his head again. “We could put our bags in the sidecar.”

“Yep. Guess you’d have to do online classes or something, though,” Puck points out. 

“We could figure something out.”

“Yeah.” Puck glances at Finn sideways, not turning his head. “You really could teach English. And I really could work on my screenplay.” 

“Yeah, we could do that,” Finn says, almost to himself, as he thinks it over. He and Puck could live pretty well in Ojinaga. They’d never be bored. They’d have each other. It’s a crazy plan, but it’s not a bad one.

“I wonder why more people don’t do it,” Puck muses, turning towards one of the restaurants. “I mean, artists are all the time complaining about not having enough money to support themselves.” 

“My mom is gonna freak,” Finn points out.

“You’re not like, leaving forever. Just moving. Hell, we’re probably closer than L.A.” 

“Yeah, maybe,” Finn says. “And I guess she can just get used to it. Let’s get all our paperwork and stuff first, before we tell anybody, though.”

“Yeah, that’s a good plan.” Puck opens the door to the restaurant, looking at the menu on the wall. “Hey, you think ‘hamburguesa’ is a hamburger?” 

“Oh, yeah, it is. That one, I remember now!” 

“I want two,” Puck says, sitting down at the bar. “Uh. Dos? Dos hamburguesa?”

“Sí,” Finn says, grinning at Puck. 

“Dos hamburguesa and—” Puck pauses, raising an eyebrow at Finn. 

“Fritas? Something fritas,” Finn says, running his finger down the menu. “Ha! Papas fritas, right here!”

“Awesome.” Puck grins. “We need to know ‘awesome’ in Spanish, I guess.” 

“Look it up in your app, maybe?” Finn suggests. The bartender stops in front of them, and they both order two hamburgers a piece, Finn’s with queso and Puck’s without, plus fries and a beer apiece.

“ _Impresionante_ ,” Puck reads off as soon as the bartender steps away. “Hang on. _Esto es impresionante_!”

“You’re impresionante,” Finn replies. “I think you are, anyway.”

Puck grins, then types something into his phone. “ _Usted es impresionante_.”

“ _Tu eres_ ,” the bartender says as she sets their beers in front of them. “Amor no es formal. You call him ‘tu’, not ‘usted’.”

Puck frowns at his phone, like it’s personally responsible for the error. “Tu eres impresionante?” he repeats. 

“Viaje de novios?” she asks. “You two look so sweet.”

“What’s that?” Puck hisses to Finn. 

“Novios, novios,” Finn repeats to himself. “Boyfriends?”

“Sí?” Puck says.

The bartender smiles even wider before disappearing back into the kitchen, returning quickly with their food. She sets the plates in front of them, winking before she turns to walk down the bar to another customer. 

“I guess she thinks we’re cute together,” Finn says.

“She’s not wrong,” Puck says with a smirk, picking up his hamburger. A few minutes later, he sets it down, looking almost pensive. “Maybe they’re all nice to us because we’re trying to use Spanish. Even if I suck at it.” 

“Maybe?” Finn shrugs. “Maybe it’s because you’re so hot.”

Puck smirks again and takes another bite of his hamburger. “Maybe so,” he says after a moment. “We should ask her if she knows of any places for rent.” 

“Yeah, that’s a good plan!”

“We want to stick close to this main road? Seems like there’s a lot of side streets with houses on them.” 

“Wherever’s cheap and has a/c,” Finn says. “I’m pretty easy.”

“You shoulda told me _that_ years ago,” Puck shoots back, grinning. 

“Didn’t know you wanted to know years ago,” Finn retorts.

“Yeah, yeah,” Puck says dismissively. He types something else into his phone, and when the bartender comes back by, he waves at her to stop. “Uh, _Casa en alquiler_?” Puck asks. “Semanal?”

The bartender looks at Puck, narrowing her eyes like she’s thinking, then over at Finn. After a few seconds, she nods her head, and reaches under the bar for a small piece of notepaper. She scribbles a number onto it and hands it to Puck. 

“You call that. Tell them Francisca sent you,” she says.

“Gracias,” Finn says.

“De nada,” Francisca the bartender replies, making a dismissive hand gesture. 

“Impresionante, sí?” Puck says to Finn, grinning. 

“Yeah, you already speak better Spanish than me,” Finn agrees. 

“I just never thought it was relevant before,” Puck admits. “I mean, Schue’s class was a joke, and how many people in Lima were speaking Spanish?”

“Santana’s grandma,” Finn says. “That’s all I can think of.”

“Yeah, and I didn’t really want to be having any conversations with _her_ ,” Puck says. “Oh, I guess we should give your mom our phone numbers.” He frowns. “Maybe tomorrow.” He picks up the piece of paper from Francisca and gestures towards the door. “I’ll go call; order us some dessert or another beer or something.” 

“Sure,” Finn says. “Maybe both.”

“Yeah, good idea.” Puck stands up, hesitates for a second, then leans over and kisses Finn before walking back outside. 

Finn orders some dessert, two more beers, and an order of chips to take with them when they go. Puck isn’t outside for very long before he comes back in, looking both pleased and puzzled. 

“We have to find ‘Calle 3a’ off ‘Juarez’,” Puck says, looking at his phone. “Dos habitaciones y aire acondicionado,” he adds, grinning. 

“Awesome!” Finn says, pulling Puck down by the front of his shirt so Finn can kiss him. Puck puts one hand on Finn’s cheek, holding him in place and deepening the kiss. The bartender makes a snorting noise.

“Recién casados,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Dios ayudanos.”

“Sure, sí,” Puck tells her. He sits back down, taking a drink of his beer. “We’re supposed to be there in about an hour. I don’t think it’s very far.” 

“Cool. Our very first place together!” Finn says. “I mean, if you don’t count the dorm or the hotels.”

“It’s not furnished, so yeah, that’s different,” Puck agrees. “Or, well, it has some kitchen stuff that we can buy, I think is what the guy meant.” 

“Are you gonna cook dinner for me?” Finn asks, nudging Puck with his elbow. 

“Grilled queso,” Puck says with a grin. “Or hamburguesa helper.” 

“Sounds awesome to me.”

“But first, we’ll get you that cereal,” Puck says, finishing off his beer. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” Finn says. 

They don’t have to walk far to find Juarez, and Calle 3a is an even shorter walk. They stop in front of a tiny, Pepto-Bismol–pink house. Finn gives Puck a dubious look.

“Pink?” Finn asks.

Puck shrugs. “At least we won’t forget which one is ours?”

A man steps out of the house, lifting one hand in a wave. “Are you the American from the phone?” he asks in perfectly pronounced English, and Puck looks almost disappointed as he nods. 

“Yeah, that’s us,” Puck says, stepping forward and offering his hand. The man shakes it, then holds his hand towards Finn. Finn takes it and shakes it.

“Let’s take a look,” the man says, holding the door open. “I like to rent to married couples,” he adds. “Take better care of the property.” 

Finn frowns. “Oh, we’re n—”

“Shh,” Puck hisses, elbowing Finn and then grabbing Finn’s hand and smiling at the man, who turns on a light switch as he smiles back. 

“Both rooms have an air conditioner,” the man says, pointing to the unit in the window of the room they’re standing in. The room is a little small for a kitchen and a living room, but it’s clean. The walls could probably use a fresh coat of paint, too. The man steps through a small doorway, leading to smaller bedroom. “Closet, bathroom,” he says, pointing at the two doors in that room.

“Big enough for a decent-sized bed at least,” Puck says to Finn. 

“I think the a/c units are older than we are,” Finn whispers.

Puck snorts. “Yeah, but they seem to work.” 

“Can we buy a couch, too?” 

“Have to have somewhere to sit to watch TV,” Puck agrees. He turns to the man. “We’ll take it.” 

“Excellent.” The man walks back into the main room and puts a piece of paper on the kitchenette counter, then pulls out a pen and gestures for Puck to fill out the paper. Puck nods and finishes it, leaving one space blank, then turns to Finn. 

“Last name?” he whispers. 

“Hudson,” Finn whispers back, then frowns, mulling it over. “Oh, shit, is that a problem?”

Puck shrugs. “None of my documents are gonna say ‘Puck’,” he points out. “But there’s no reason I can’t be, I don’t know.” He stops and grins at Finn. “Puck Hudson’s a funny name.” 

“Finn Puckerman sounds like somebody who should raft the Mississippi,” Finn says. 

Puck laughs. “Yeah, it really does,” he agrees. “With a straw hat.” He writes something else on the form, then counts out some of the bills and hands the form and the money to the man, who smiles widely and hands Puck another piece of paper and a set of keys. 

“Move in tomorrow,” the man says, and Puck nods. 

“Gracias,” he manages, which makes the man laugh and wave them out the door. Puck stops them in front of the house again. “Well, what do you think?” he asks Finn. 

“We live in a very pink house,” Finn says. “That’s what I think.”

“Yeah, fair enough,” Puck agrees. “We can go get furniture now. Or we could go use the jacuzzi tina.” 

“Let’s check out what they have, then go back and use the jacuzzi tina.”

“Awesome,” Puck says, sliding himself under Finn’s arm again as they walk. They get back to the main road when Puck says triumphantly, “Rosa!”

“Who?” Finn asks.

“Rosa casa,” Puck says. “It sounds better in Spanish, I think. Instead of ‘pink house’.” 

“Yeah, that does sound nice.”

“So… couch, bed, television, anything else?” Puck asks.

“La-Z-Boys,” Finn says. “Probably a table, too.”

“Nice,” Puck says with a grin. “And good call on— hang on a second.” He looks at his phone and then laughs. “Mesa. La mesa I guess. Like mess hall.” He pauses at one of the crossroads. “What size bed?” 

“A big one. A really, really big one,” Finn says.

Puck laughs. “So you’d rather have more bed than floor space?” Puck asks. “I’m good with that.” 

“I’ve always wanted a king size bed,” Finn confesses. 

“Let’s go for it, then,” Puck says, sliding his arm around Finn’s waist again. “Should be long enough for you, right?” 

“Long enough for me, wide enough for both of us,” Finn says. “Do you like a really squishy bed or a firm one?”

Puck makes a face, clearly thinking. “Huh. I dunno. Maybe a firm one, I don’t like falling in a hole. And you realize I’m gonna end up right up behind you?” Puck asks wryly. 

“Yeah,” Finn say, a smile starting to spread across his face.

“No complaints?” Puck asks, steering them towards the furniture store. “Might get a little warm.” 

“That’s what the a/c is for.” Finn shrugs. “Besides, we don’t need to sleep in pajamas or anything.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” Puck grins at Finn as they walk inside. “Now’s the fun part.” He looks at his phone for a minute. “We get to _probar colchones y sillas_.” 

“That sounds dirty.”

Puck smirks. “Only once we get ’em back in private. You said you weren’t into exhibitionism, remember?” 

Finn grins back at Puck. “Then we’ll have to imagine while we’re still in the store.”

“Oh, believe me, I’m good at that,” Puck says, pulling Finn with him towards the display of mattresses. “Oh, shit, I guess we need to know ‘firm’ and ‘soft’ in Spanish.” 

“Orrrrrr…”

“Flop down on ’em?” Puck suggests. 

“Don’t we need to be sure they’re, you know. Sturdy?” Finn grins even wider.

“And supportive,” Puck agrees, stopping at one of the mattresses and pulling Finn onto it with him. “Hmm. What do you think?” 

“This one’s nice. We can just get this one,” Finn says. 

Puck rolls onto his side, pressing against Finn. “Yeah? Feels sturdy enough for you?” 

“You’re probably a better judge about that than me,” Finn says. 

“I just want you to be comfortable,” Puck insists, grabbing Finn’s hand and squeezing it. “But if you like this one, we’ll get this one. Living room now?”

“Yeah, I want a really comfortable chair, too,” Finn says. He squeezes Puck’s hand back. 

“Comfortable chairs it is, then,” Puck says, hauling them to their feet and walking to a different area of the store. “What color was it inside again? I forgot with all the pink.” 

“I don’t remember, either. White or whitish?”

“So doesn’t really matter. Cool.” Puck looks around the small selection of La-Z-Boy–type chairs. “Guess we just pick whatever we want, then.” 

Finn looks at the chairs. “You think they should match?”

“I dunno.” Puck shrugs. “I don’t care if you don’t.” 

“Then I want the blue one.”

“You don’t want to sit in it first?” Puck asks, walking around the chairs. 

Finn side-eyes Puck and then starts grinning at him. “Maybe we should both sit in it.”

Puck grins back. “You need a sturdiness rating on your furniture?” he jokes, walking over to the blue one and waiting for Finn to sit down before plopping on Finn’s lap. “Well?”

“Chair didn’t break,” Finn says. He pulls the handle to recline the chair, and the chair reclines with no problem. “Comfy?”

“Yeah,” Puck agrees, even though most of him is on top of Finn, not on the chair itself. “We need two chairs and a couch or just one chair and a couch?”

“Do you need your own chair? The space isn’t that big,” Finn says.

“I think I have my own seat without my own chair,” Puck points out with a grin. “Let’s go order this stuff.” 

“Awesome!”

They pay for the furniture and for delivery the next day, then they head back to the hotel. Once they’re inside, Finn cranks the air conditioning up as cold as it can go and lies down on the bed, patting the space next to him. 

“Are we napping or jacuzzi-ing?” Puck asks, lying down beside Finn and then rolling to face him. 

“Maybe one then the other,” Finn suggests. “Probably jacuzzi first?”

“Sounds good,” Puck agrees, kissing Finn hard before sitting up and peeling off his T-shirt. “Mexico’s a difficult life.” 

“Yeah, it’s tough down here.” Finn undresses, too, and walks into the bathroom to start running water into the tub. Puck walks up behind him, fully naked, and wraps his arms around Finn, kissing the back of Finn’s shoulders. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Puck echoes, pressing himself against Finn’s back. “Let’s enjoy this thing.” 

Finn nods and steps into the tub, pulling Puck in with him. Finn sits behind Puck, with his legs on either side, and pulls Puck back so he’s lying against Finn’s chest. Puck pushes the button, starting the jets going, then relaxes back on Finn. 

“This is nice,” Finn says. He puts his arms around Puck, running one hand up and down Puck’s chest. 

“Yeah,” Puck says, sounding almost sleepy. “Good idea.” 

“Yeah,” Finn agrees. He closes his eyes and lets his body relax, except his arms, which hold Puck even more tightly. They stay like that until the water gets cold, then get out, towel off, and go lie down on the bed. Puck rolls over, spooning Finn like he has been when they sleep, and lets out one of his content sighs. 

"Nap's good too," he murmurs.

“Yeah,” Finn says, reaching for Puck’s arm and pulling it over him. “Nap’s good too.” Puck's arm tightens around Finn's chest, and Puck kisses the back of Finn's neck silently. Within a couple of minutes, Puck's breathing slows and his arm relaxes slightly. Finn closes his eyes, too, and after a few more minutes of lying there with Puck behind him, he falls asleep.

"—happy," Puck's voice says, quiet and low, his lips against Finn's ear. "So, yeah, I guess it's just scary." He pauses and snorts softly. "No matter what you said senior year. A few things do scare me, you know."

“Hmm?” Finn mumbles, still half-asleep. “Nah, nothin’ scares you.” He snuggles back against Puck, not opening his eyes or trying to be more awake than he is already. 

Puck snorts again, kissing Finn's neck. "See, you even say it in your sleep." His hand moves slowly over Finn's chest for a moment while he's quiet. "What happens when we are in Lima, you know?" Puck says, barely audible. "What if it's just Mexico, for you?"

“Me n’ you n’ Mexico,” Finn says softly. “Me n’ you.”

"Yeah," Puck agrees softly. "You and me. Anywhere, I hope."

“Yeah. Me too.”

"Wonder what you're dreaming about," Puck says, almost laughing. He presses closer to Finn, his arm wrapped tightly around Finn's chest, and he nuzzles his face into Finn's neck. "Love you, Finn."

“Yeah,” Finn whispers, starting to drift off again. “Love you, Puck.” Puck kisses the back of Finn's neck a final time, clearly intending to drift back off himself. 

"Wake up," Puck is saying when Finn wakes up again. His hand is wrapped around Finn's cock loosely, and his own cock is pressed against Finn's ass. Finn moans quietly, rocking his hips forward to thrust into the circle of Puck’s hand, then back to grind against Puck’s cock.

“I’m awake,” Finn says. “Hey.”

"Hi," Puck says. "Good way to wake up?"

“Yeah.” Finn rotates his hips back against Puck again. “Good way to wake me up?”

"Oh, yeah," Puck agrees, his hand grasping Finn's cock a little more firmly. "You look hot like this." He pushes his hips forward a little more insistently, his cock pressing into Finn’s ass harder.

Finn smiles to himself, closing his eyes. “Yeah?” 

“Uh-huh,” Puck says, his head nodding against Finn’s neck and shoulders. “Uh, not that I’m going to yet, but… is it okay if I come on your ass?”

“Oh.” Finn opens his eyes, a little surprised. “Yeah, I mean. That’s okay.”

“Okay. Good.” Puck’s hand slides up and down Finn’s cock, and he starts kissing the back of Finn’s neck and the top of Finn’s shoulders. “Want you to come all over my hand again.” 

“ _Awesome_ ,” Finn says, grinding back against Puck again. 

“Yeah,” Puck says, sounding breathy, and his hand moves faster as he thrusts against Finn. “Really fucking awesome. And whatever the Spanish was. Awesome in two languages.” 

“Yeah,” Finn agrees. “This is so awesome.”

“You feel so good,” Puck says, grunting at the end of the sentence, and his fingers get tighter on Finn’s cock. 

“Yeah, you feel good, too,” Finn says. “Your hands are so great.”

“Yeah?” Puck starts kissing Finn again, the sloppy open-mouthed kisses all along Finn’s neck and shoulders. “Everything feels good.” Puck’s breathing gets more shallow, and both his hand and his thrusts speed up, almost frantic, until Puck lets out a low cry, his hips still and pushed against Finn’s ass as he comes. 

“Oh _god_ , that’s hot,” Finn breathes. “Oh shit, Puck, that’s so hot.” He rock his hips faster, thrusting into Puck’s hand a few more times before he comes all over Puck’s fingers. 

“Yeah, that’s hot,” Puck agrees, lifting his hand up to his mouth. “Now we’re a mess.” He pauses. “Kinda awesome mess though.”

“Definitely awesome. Definitely messy,” Finn says. 

Puck wraps his arm around Finn’s chest again, resting his chin on Finn’s shoulder and pulling Finn back against him. “Don’t go anywhere, okay?” he says lightly. 

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Finn says. “Why would I want to be anywhere else?”

“Dunno,” Puck says, nuzzling his head against the side of Finn’s head. “’Night.” 

“Night,” Finn replies. 

When Finn wakes up in the morning, Puck’s still spooned up behind him, and they’re both pretty gross from the night before. Finn rolls out from under Puck’s arm so he can watch Puck’s face while he sleeps for a little while, then gets up to shower. When he gets back to the bed, he puts his mouth to Puck’s ear.

“Wake up and shave the ’stache,” Finn whispers.

“What?” Puck mumbles, his eyes still closed. 

“It’s morningtime!” Finn sing-songs. “Morningtime means mustache shaving time!”

Puck scrunches up his face before blinking his eyes open. “I have a thing about that.” He stops. “A theory. A theory about that.” 

“Oh yeah? Lay it on me.”

“See, we each have to have one thing,” Puck says, stretching a little. “One thing to complain about, or that annoys us. So the mustache can be the thing that annoys you.” 

“It doesn’t just annoy me. It tickles,” Finn says. “And, hey! Are you saying I do something that annoys you?” 

“Tickling’s not a bad thing,” Puck argues. “And, well, yeah. You do that thing about how ‘stupid’ or ‘dumb’ you are.” He makes air quotes around ‘stupid’ and ‘dumb’, shaking his head. 

Finn shrugs. “I guess when you hear something enough, you know? Just sort of sticks.”

“But you’re not,” Puck says, frowning and opening his mouth like he’s about to say something else, then stopping. He shakes his head another time before continuing. “So is it how it looks or how it feels?”

“Both,” Finn says. “Definitely both.”

“It’s not sexy?” Puck asks, looking vaguely hurt. 

“ _You’re_ sexy,” Finn says. 

“But not my mustache?”

Finn takes a second to think about his words, twisting up his mouth and scrunching his eyebrows together. “Your sexiness is, uh. Independent. It’s independent of your starter-stache.”

Puck puts his hand up over the mustache, feeling it for a few moments before he responds. “I think it might be just a mustache now, dude. I’m kinda hairy.” He puts his hand down and frowns at Finn. “You dislike it that much?”

“You _like_ it that much?” Finn counters. 

“You’re forgetting I had a mohawk for years,” Puck points out. “Me and weird hair go together.”

“Well, then I’ll give it a day or two to see if I get used to it,” Finn says. 

“You might,” Puck says, grinning up at him. “I should really put some effort into getting you used to it.” 

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see,” Finn says. “Go get cleaned up. We have to move our stuff.”

“In a minute,” Puck insists, pulling Finn down into a long kiss. 

When Puck releases him, Finn makes a pretend grossed-out face. “I don’t know, dude. Mustache _and_ morning breath?”

“Just for that, I’m kissing you again,” Puck says, which is exactly what he does, kissing Finn even longer the second time. Finn relaxes into it, because gross or not, it’s Puck, and it’s a kiss, and that still makes it awesome. 

“Okay, now get cleaned up,” Finn says when they come up for air. 

Puck laughs and sits up. “Aye, aye, captain,” he says, heading towards the bathroom. When he finishes getting cleaned up and dressed, he walks back to Finn, bending over and kissing Finn again. “Time to move?”

“Yeah, let’s go home,” Finn says. “To our pink, pink home.”

“ _Rosa casa_ ,” Puck insists, picking up the tote bag they found the day before, but he’s grinning a little stupidly. 

“Yeah, rosa casa, sweet rosa casa,” Finn agrees. 

They pack up what little they have, food included, and Finn swipes a towel from the bathroom to shove into the bag on top of their stuff. After checking out of the hotel, Puck and Finn walk to their new pink house, just a few minutes ahead of the furniture being delivered. Puck slips each of the delivery dudes a twenty. The delivery dudes bring everything in and even assemble the metal frame for the bed. 

“Gracias, dudes,” Finn says, as the delivery guys get back in their truck. Finn shuts the front door and grins at Puck. “We totally have a house!”

Puck grins back. “Yeah, we do.” He looks around and laughs. “We’re gonna have to make a list of all the rest of the stuff we need to shop for.” Then he frowns. “But, uh, probably it’s time to call your mom for today.” 

“Hope you’re ready for another foot rub,” Finn says, waggling his eyebrows. 

“Oh, I wanted the full happy ending this time,” Puck retorts, grinning again.

“You told me not to give happy endings,” Finn says.

“To _other people_!” Puck protests. 

Finn shrugs. “You should’ve been clearer, I guess.”

“Hmph.” Puck frowns at Finn and picks up his phone, sighing just before he presses ‘call’ and the phone starts ringing. 

“Noah?” Carole’s voice says after two rings. “My caller ID says this is a cell phone in Mexico?”

“Yeah, we got new phones,” Puck says. “This is my number.” 

“New phones,” Carole repeats. “Noah, I need to talk to Finn today, please.” Puck looks up at Finn and shrugs. 

“Hey Mom,” Finn says loudly, so she can hear him through the speaker phone. 

“Finn! I’ve been worried,” Carole says scoldingly. “Tell me how you are.” 

“I’m fine, Mom. Seriously,” Finn says. “Mexico’s actually really nice, now that we have a little house to stay in and we know where all the stores and stuff are.”

“A _house_?” Carole repeats incredulously. 

“I didn’t tell her that part,” Puck whispers, holding his hand over his phone briefly. 

“What do you mean, a house?” Carole’s voice comes through his hand. 

“You know, like… a house. To stay in,” Finn tries to explain. “It’s cheaper than a hotel, and, I don’t know, Mom. Like I said, it’s pretty good here.”

“Are you boys playing house in Mexico?” Carole demands, and Puck frowns at the phone, looking more offended than he did about his mustache. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Finn says. He shrugs at Puck. 

“You can’t just— _rent a house_ ,” Carole says, sounding flustered. “How long exactly were you planning to stay? Did you really get kidnapped or did you two plan this? You must have documents or you couldn’t have signed a lease!”

“We didn’t know how long the paperwork stuff would take!” Finn says. “It could take a long time. And _yes_ , we really got kidnapped! We wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Well.” Carole sighs heavily. “Boys, you’re going to have to visit the nearest American consulate, which is in Juarez. I tried to Google, and I think your best option is a bus to Chihuahua and then one from there to Juarez.” 

“That sounds like a lot of bus,” Finn says, frowning.

“I wired more money to you in Chihuahua,” Carole says. “It’s really too bad you can’t just go into Presidio, but I suppose that would solve the entire problem.” 

“I saw that on a sign, Presidio,” Puck says. 

“Boys,” Carole says slowly. “Did you not realize you’re right across the border?”

“Huh?” Finn asks. “Seriously?” He pulls up the map app on his phone and types on ‘Presidio’. The little dot for Presidio and the little dot for Ojinaga do look awfully close. Finn shows the screen to Puck.

“Well, fuck me,” Puck says under his breath. 

“Noah!” Carole says. 

“Sorry?” Puck says, but he looks up at Finn and smirks. Finn stares back for a second before his face feels hot and he looks away.

“So, we can’t just drive back to Texas or take the bus or something?” Finn asks. “Can’t somebody just meet us at the border and hand us our paperwork?”

“Unfortunately not,” Carole says. “Now, one of you needs to write the next few things down.” 

Puck puts down his phone and rummages in the bag from the hotel until he finds the hotel’s pad of scratch paper and pen. He stops next to Finn on his way to sit back down, whispering in Finn’s ear. “Maybe you could take classes in Texas while we live here, then,” he says. 

“Yeah, that would be awesome,” Finn says.

“What would be awesome, Finn?” Carole asks. 

“Nothing!” Finn replies quickly.

“If you’re sure,” Carole says, then starts giving them a lot of information about buses, money, and the American consulate. After all of that, she comes back to discuss the house. “It’s too bad you rented a house in Ojinaga,” she says. “Chihuahua and Juarez are both much larger.” 

“But we like it here, Mom. It’s a nice little town. The people are all nice to us!”

“I just hope you’re staying safe,” Carole says, almost fretting. “Call me tomorrow before noon, okay?”

“We will,” Finn promises. “Love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too. Bye, boys.” The call ends, and Puck looks up at Finn thoughtfully. 

“It’s kinda funny,” Puck says after a minute.

“Yeah?”

“It’s not Lima, but it is still a small town, isn’t it?” Puck shakes his head, grinning wryly. “Guess we’re just small-town boys.” 

“Is that bad?” Finn asks. “Do you mind?”

Puck stands up, walking over to Finn and leaning his head against Finn’s shoulder. “I dunno. It’s a little weird. But it’s both of us, and you can’t really deny that it’s true.” 

“No, I guess I can’t,” Finn admits. 

“It’s still an adventure,” Puck points out. “And I guess we’re going to explore more of our new state tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, I guess we are,” Finn says, grinning at Puck. Their new state. That makes Finn almost ridiculously happy. 

“I guess that means we have to get our shopping done today, though,” Puck says. 

“You think we have to go right now?” Finn asks, glancing back in the direction of the bed, _their_ bed, in the bedroom of _their_ house.

“Nah, probably not,” Puck agrees, following Finn’s glance with his eyes. “You have something else you want to do?”

“Isn’t there stuff people are supposed to do when they move into a new house?”

“I’m guessing you aren’t talking about getting internet set up,” Puck says, sliding one arm around Finn’s waist. Finn shakes his head, trying not to blush or look nervous or anything too dumb. “Is that what you want?” Puck asks quietly.

Finn bites his lower lip as he nods. He wants to seem more confident than he feels, make sure Puck knows that Finn really does want it, even if he’s scared, too. “Yes,” Finn manages. “Yes, it’s what I want.”

“Okay. Awesome,” Puck says, shifting to stand in front of Finn and wrap his other arm around Finn’s neck. “Really fucking awesome.” Puck pulls Finn down into a kiss, pressing their lips together hard, and the hand around Finn’s waist moves under Finn’s T-shirt. 

Finn kisses Puck back desperately, his tongue in Puck’s mouth. Puck’s stupid mustache prickles Finn’s upper lip, but Finn doesn’t care. He slides one hand into Puck’s hair, holding his head as they kiss. Puck pulls Finn closer to him, his hand sliding up Finn’s back, and he moves one leg between Finn’s legs. 

“Gonna take you to bed,” Puck says, a little breathlessly. “Okay? And we’re wearing way too many clothes.” 

"Yeah," Finn agrees. He pulls his shirt up, moving away from Puck just long enough to bring it over his head and drop it. "You need help?" he adds, tugging on Puck's shirt hem.

“Sure,” Puck says with a wide grin, lifting his arms enough for Finn to remove the shirt. “Yeah, that’s better.” Puck puts his arms back around Finn, bringing their chests together, and starts slowly walking them towards the bedroom. 

"Still too many clothes?" Finn asks. He puts his hands on the front of Puck's jeans, toying with the button.

“Any’s too many,” Puck retorts. 

"Good to know." Finn unbuttons and unzips Puck's jeans, pushing them down so Puck can step out of them.

“Yep,” Puck says, kicking his jeans to the side and reaching for Finn’s waistband. “It gets pretty hot down here in Mexico, we’d probably save on air conditioning if we just skipped clothes most of the time.” 

"Save on laundry, too," Finn reasons.

“Exactly.” Puck’s grin gets even bigger, and he unfastens Finn’s jeans before pushing jeans and boxers down at the same time. “No down side,” he adds, leaving Finn’s jeans just below his knees and running his hands back up Finn’s thighs. 

“Won’t wear out clothes out as fast, either,” Finn says, stepping out of his jeans and boxers. 

“I’m convinced,” Puck says, pulling Finn against him again and sliding his hand around Finn’s waist and then down to Finn’s ass. “No clothes at home.” 

“Yeah,” Finn agrees. He takes a step backwards, hitting the bed, and pulls Puck down with him onto the mattress. 

“Oh, shit, hang on,” Puck says, dangling off the bed and digging through the bag of stuff from the hotel. He pops back up a minute later, holding a tub of Vaseline. “Okay.”

Finn eyes the Vaseline. “Uhhhh. Dude?”

“They didn’t have real lube,” Puck says with a frown. “We’ll check in Chihuahua tomorrow.” 

“Oh.”

Puck sets the tub down and slides back on top of Finn. “We can wait, if you want real lube.” 

“No, it’s okay,” Finn says quickly. “It’s fine.”

“Okay,” Puck says, kissing Finn hard and running his hands between them, over Finn’s chest. Finn closes his eyes, focusing on the feel of Puck’s hands. Puck pulls away from Finn’s lips, kissing his neck and then his collarbone, and his hands go lower, one wrapping very loosely around Finn’s cock. “Hey, it’s cool,” Puck says between kisses. 

“I know,” Finn says. “Just, you know. Nervous.”

“Yeah, I know,” Puck says, moving his mouth down Finn’s chest, and his other hand rests on Finn’s upper thigh, his thumb barely touching Finn’s balls. “I’ll make you feel awesome, I promise.” 

“Yeah, I know you will,” Finn says. 

Puck lifts his head up and grins at Finn, then moves towards the foot of the bed and puts his mouth on Finn’s cock, his lips slowly sliding down it. Finn exhales loudly, his hands grabbing the sheets underneath him.

“Oh. Oh _shit_ ,” Finn whispers. Puck’s hand leaves Finn’s thigh, picking up Finn’s hand and moving it to the back of Puck’s head as he moves slowly up and down Finn’s cock. Finn presses his fingers into Puck’s scalp. “Shit, Puck.”

Puck squeezes Finn’s thigh with his hand, and he flicks his tongue over the tip of Finn’s cock before wrapping it around the head. Puck’s other hand cups Finn’s balls for a few moments before stroking the skin behind them. Finn moans and tries not to flat-out writhe on the bed, still clutching at the sheets with his free hand. Puck continues sucking and stroking, and then moves his fingers back, circling Finn’s ass, and his eyes flick up to look at Finn’s face. 

Finn gives Puck a faint nod. Puck’s eyes close, his fingers and mouth still moving, and his other hand moves slowly from Finn’s thigh. After a moment, Puck picks up the Vaseline, and he slowly lets go of Finn’s cock long enough to speak. “Move your legs up a little,” he says.

Finn moves his legs, watching Puck the whole time. Puck’s eyes are blazing with that intense look he gets when he’s really serious about something. Finn takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, saying, “Oh.”

“What?” Puck asks quietly, his hands running down Finn’s inner thighs. 

“I just— I really _am_ in love with you,” Finn says. 

“Yeah?” Puck asks with a grin, dipping one hand into the Vaseline and looking almost bashful. 

“Yeah,” Finn says, smiling at Puck. 

“That’s awesome,” Puck says, just before taking Finn’s cock in his mouth again, and a few seconds later, one of the Vaseline-coated fingers is pressing against Finn’s ass and then slipping just barely inside it. Finn inhales sharply, closing his eyes. Puck’s mouth starts moving on Finn’s cock, a little faster than before, and Puck’s finger keeps pressing slowly into Finn. 

Finn lets out a little yelp and bucks his hips up, pushing his cock farther into Puck’s mouth. When he realizes what he’s doing, he says, “Oh, sorry!”

Puck pats Finn’s thigh and then gives Finn a brief thumbs-up, his finger still moving further inside. Finn relaxes against the bed as best he can, holding on to Puck’s short hair and the sheet. Puck starts moving his finger around inside Finn at the same time he gets more of Finn’s cock inside his mouth, and Puck’s free hand strokes slowly down Finn’s side and back to his thigh. 

“Oh, shit!” Finn says, bucking up off the bed again, thrusting into Puck’s mouth. “Sorry.”

“You can,” Puck mumbles around Finn’s cock, his finger still moving around and then back and forth. 

“It won’t hurt your mouth or throat or anything?” Puck shakes his head. “Okay,” Finn continues. “Cool.” 

The corners of Puck’s mouth turn up, like he’s grinning, and then he pulls his finger out of Finn completely. Finn frowns slightly.

“Why’d you stop?” he asks.

Puck looks like he’s still grinning, and then he pushes two fingers slowly into Finn. Finn can feel himself gasp, more than actually realizing he’s doing it, and he tightens his hold on Puck’s head and on the sheet. Puck’s fingers move slowly, and his mouth slows on Finn’s cock. Puck seems almost like he’s moving his fingers in a pattern, and his eyes flick up to Finn’s face again. 

“What?” Finn asks, admittedly a little breathily. “What are you— oh. _Oh._ Oh, shit, Puck, what— _holy shit_.” Whatever Puck is doing, it’s suddenly awesome, like incredibly awesome. Puck chuckles, and he keeps his fingers in the same place with slightly more pressure. The combination of that and Puck’s mouth on his cock makes Finn thrust upward again without being fully aware that’s what he’s doing.

Then Puck’s fingers disappear, and his other hand strokes down Finn’s chest twice while Puck keeps his mouth on Finn’s cock. Finn whines, “Puck, you stopped again!” and lifts his hips off the bed a little. 

“Shh,” Puck says, pulling back just as he puts three fingers inside Finn, and he looks up at Finn with a slight smile. “Don’t want you to come too soon.” 

“No, we want that, we want that,” Finn argues, even as he’s rocking his hips up, pushing against Puck’s fingers. “Oh, fuck, Puck, we want that.” 

“Don’t you want to come while I’m inside you?” Puck teases. 

“Part of you’s inside me!” Finn insists. “Come on, Puck, please!”

“You want my cock inside you?” Puck asks. 

“Will you let me come?” Finn replies. “If yes, then yes!”

Puck laughs and removes his fingers, reaching for the Vaseline tub again. “I promise I’ll let you come.” 

“Then _yeah_ , be inside me now,” Finn says. 

Puck coats his cock with some of the Vaseline, leaning forward and kissing Finn while his hand moves. His hand cups Finn’s balls again briefly before both hands push at Finn’s legs, positioning them a little farther back and open wider. “Oh, fuck,” Puck breathes, putting his cock against Finn’s ass, and he leans forward, weight on his hands as he very slowly pushes his cock inside Finn. 

Finn’s eyes are wide, his mouth open, and he breathes in short little pants, feeling Puck moving inside him. He might even be making noises, but he’s not fully aware of them. Every part of him is focused on Puck on top of him, inside him.

“Puck,” Finn says softly, putting one hand on the back of Puck’s neck as Finn stares up at him.

“So awesome,” Puck says equally softly, and he stares back at Finn as he pushes further into Finn. “You’re good?” 

Finn nods, not really able to put words to what he’s feeling. He pulls at Puck’s neck, tugging Puck’s head down so they can kiss. Puck kisses Finn hard, and while their lips are pressed together, Puck pushes his cock the rest of the way inside Finn. Finn moans into Puck’s mouth, gripping the back of Puck’s neck and the sheet in his hands. 

“Oh, fuck, _Finn_ ,” Puck says, his lips just above Finn’s. “Shit, this is the best thing.” 

“Yeah,” Finn agrees. “Shit, Puck, this is— I don’t even know. I don’t even know.” He rolls his hips up, and Puck thrusts down at the same time. 

“I don’t want to do anything else. Ever,” Puck says, slowly thrusting in and out of Finn. “Fuck. I love you.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I love you,” Finn replies. “It’s kinda always been you, Puck. I just didn’t know.”

“Yeah,” Puck says softly, and he leans down to kiss Finn again, his thrusts starting to speed up. He reaches between the two of them and slowly strokes Finn’s cock, Vaseline still smeared across his hand. 

“Oh shit, oh shit, Puck, oh god, oh god,” Finn starts to chant, Puck’s hand already bringing him that close. “Oh, _shit_ , Puck, I’m— I’m gonna—” Finn closes his eyes and arches his back, pushing against Puck’s cock. “Puck,” Finn whines. 

Puck thrusts into Finn harder than before, his hand still on Finn’s cock. Finn cries out loudly and comes harder than he’s ever come, his head falling back against the bed and his hand still holding on to the back of Puck’s neck. 

“Oh, shit, yeah,” Puck says, still thrusting hard into Finn, and he kisses Finn again, his tongue pushing into Finn’s mouth. Puck moans, his thrusts getting frantic, and then his entire body shudders as he comes, cock deep inside Finn. 

“Oh, wow,” Finn whispers. 

Puck collapses on top of Finn, his breathing heavy. “Very wow.” 

“Yeah,” Finn agrees. “Puck, I…” He shakes his head and kisses the side of Puck’s face. 

“Was it awesome enough?” Puck says, pulling slowly out of Finn with a tiny bit of a whimper. 

“Yeah. Yeah, it was so awesome,” Finn says. 

Puck shifts to his side, pressed against Finn with his head on Finn’s shoulder, and he puts one arm over Finn’s chest. “Hey, Finn?” Puck asks after a few minutes. 

“Yeah, Puck?”

“So, uh. Two dudes in one bed is like confirmed gay,” Puck says, laughing at the end of the sentence. 

Finn snorts, then starts to laugh, too, putting both his arms around Puck and holding him. “Jackass.”

“You like it,” Puck retorts. 

“Yeah, I guess I do,” Finn says.

“One more question.” 

“Okay.”

Puck looks up towards Finn and grins. “You wanna do that again?”

Finn laughs again. “Yeah. Yeah, I do want to do that again.”

“Good.” Puck sighs and closes his eyes. “Give me about fifteen minutes.” 

“Sure,” Finn says. He’s pretty sure they aren’t going to get the rest of their shopping done, but he’s equally sure he doesn’t care. 

He's right; they don't finish their shopping. Instead they stay up way too late fucking, then fall into a dead sleep, from which Finn wakes up grudgingly. They pull their clothes on in the dark before stumbling to the bus station.

“Omnibus’s too early,” Puck mumbles to Finn as they wait to board the bus to Chihuahua the next morning. 

“Yeah,” Finn says, leaning against Puck. “Why are we going on the bus?”

“Money,” Puck says through a yawn. “Papers. So we’re here legally.” 

“Okay, if you say so,” Finn says. 

“Yeah.” Puck shakes his head, handing the driver their tickets and going as far back on the bus as he can before sitting down and taking Finn’s hand to pull him down too. Puck doesn’t release Finn’s hand, and he puts his head on Finn’s shoulder. “Maybe the bus won’t be too crowded.” 

“Yeah, maybe so,” Finn says. 

“Or maybe it’ll be really crowded,” Puck says a few minutes later, moving closer to the window and pulling Finn with him as they have to scoot over to make room for more of the people boarding. Finn rests his head on top of Puck’s head, with Puck’s head on Finn’s shoulder.

“I don’t mind the crowd,” Finn says. 

Puck nods a little. “Yeah, me either,” he agrees. The bus pulls out, and after they’re a few miles from Ojinaga, Puck straightens a little. “It’s pretty,” he says, looking out the window. 

“Yeah. Hard to notice when you’re dying of heatstroke or something like that,” Finn says, “but yeah, it’s pretty pretty. We picked a good town to stagger to.”

Puck laughs. “Yeah. And hey. Like I say, my people are a desert people.” 

“I thought you said that was just because I don’t turn the heat up!”

“Well… yeah, that too,” Puck says, shrugging a little. “It’s an adaptable phrase.”

Finn nods, thinking about it for a few minutes before asking, “So… am I a desert people now?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Puck says as he nods. “I mean, I’m desert people, and you’re with me, so you’re desert people.”

“Cool,” Finn says. 

“Yeah,” Puck agrees, snuggling up against Finn even more closely. “Stuck with me.” 

“You Fed-exing my mom a goat?” Finn asks.

“A goat?” Puck repeats. He pauses for a few seconds, then chuckles. “Nah, you’re worth at least a few head of cattle.”

“Plus maybe a jackass?”

Puck laughs again. “Sure,” he agrees. “A few cows and a jackass. Your mom can keep the jackass in the garage.” 

“Sure thing,” Finn says, closing his eyes. When he opens them again, Puck is typing away at his phone. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Puck says, smiling but looking furtive at the same time. 

“What’s up?”

“Not too far from Chihuahua, I think,” Puck says, though he says ‘Chihuahua’ more like the Mexicans than he has before. 

“Cool. How long was I out?” Finn asks. 

“Close to three hours,” Puck says, tilting his phone so Finn can’t see the screen at all. “Did I wear you out?” he asks, smirking. 

Finn laughs. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“You sore?” Puck asks, lowering his voice. 

“Yeah, a little,” Finn says, shrugging. “I don’t mind.”

Puck grins. “Good.” He looks at his phone again, types in something else, and then frowns a little before studying Finn. 

“What?” Finn asks. “Does my face look weird or something?”

“You’re not really a ‘confite’,” Puck says thoughtfully. “Maybe ‘muy querido’.”

“Huh? Are you talking about cheese?”

“I’m _not_ calling you queso,” Puck says, sounding offended. 

“Well, what _are_ you calling me?” Finn asks.

“Muy querido,” Puck says more firmly. 

“What? What’s it mean?”

Puck looks almost shifty. “You can look it up,” he offers. 

“Maybe I will!” Finn says, pulling out his own phone and typing the phrase in. First, the translation page offers him a corrected spelling, and then it tells him it means “really wanted,” which isn’t so bad. Finn smiles at Puck. “Okay, we’re cool.”

“Good,” Puck says, looking almost bashful again for a moment. “Also I guess this is the state capital, from what I read.” He frowns. “I think I can probably speak Spanish and understand it, but I’m not going to be reading it very much.” 

“We’ll figure everything out, don’t worry,” Finn assures him. 

“I was just gonna leave you in charge of the Spanish-reading,” Puck agrees. 

Finn nods. “Sounds good to me. I’ll try to not get us lost or dead.”

“Awesome.” Puck puts his phone away and takes Finn’s hand, sitting silently until they arrive at the bus depot. “Lead on,” Puck says jokingly as they stand up and wait to disembark. “We need the bank, and then we’ve got a couple of hours to kill.”

Luckily, the bank turns out to be right next to the bus depot, so getting the money isn’t too much of a problem. Carole thought to fax copies of Finn and Puck’s drivers licenses, birth certificates, and Social Security cards to the bank, so not only can they get their money, they have at least a moderately passable proof of identification, just in case they need it. 

“Okay, so now what?” Finn asks, after Puck has pocketed the money from Carole. 

“Let me change a few of these bills for pesos,” Puck says slowly, pulling out some of the money they found when they arrived in Mexico. “Then I bet we can find some jeans that are long enough for you, in one of these shops.” 

“That would be awesome,” Finn says. “And maybe some _real_ shorts, too? A couple shirts. Underwear. Socks.”

“Shopping spree for Finn, check,” Puck agrees, stepping up to a different bank teller to exchange some bills for a huge stack of pesos. He puts them in his front pocket and grabs Finn’s hand again, pulling him towards the nearest of the clothing shops. “Anything you think I need?”

“Uh.” Finn blushes.

“What?” Puck asks. “Don’t tell me you want me to start wearing underwear _now_.”

“No. Just, you know. Something _not_ Vaseline?” Finn asks, looking away and running his hand over his head. 

“Oh, yeah, good idea,” Puck agrees. “That’s not for me, that’s for both of us.” 

“Yeah,” Finn says. 

“Maybe a hat,” Puck says, grinning at Finn. 

“You’d look pretty hot in a cowboy hat,” Finn has to admit. “It’ll match your boots.”

Puck grins more widely. “We’ll get you a hat, too. No more sunsickness.” 

“Okay. Nothing too dumb-looking, though,” Finn says. 

“You’ll look hot, too,” Puck promises, heading into the store. 

“To you, maybe.”

They buy several changes of clothes for each of them using Puck’s changed-out pesos, and Puck changes into one of the new shirts right away. Once he adds the hat, he almost looks like he’s _from_ Mexico, not just kidnapped to there. Finn nods. 

“Still gotta shave the ’stache,” Finn says.

“It’ll grow on you,” Puck insists. “Funny how you weren’t complaining yesterday.”

“Yesterday’s yesterday. Today’s no-mustache day.”

“You got multiple blow jobs yesterday,” Puck says. “If there was a time to complain, it was then. Anyway, no razor here.” 

“Bet I can find one somewhere,” Finn mutters to himself. 

“I think it’s like I said yesterday morning. You just need something to complain about.” Puck slings his arm around Finn, pulling him close. “I think you _like_ it.”

“I don’t!” Finn protests. “I like _you_ and it’s attached to you.”

“That’s just that semantics thing,” Puck says. “You like it.” 

“But I can’t see your lips when you’re blowing me,” Finn says, tacking on what he hopes is a suitably pitiful pouty face. “It makes me _sad_.”

Puck chuckles and pulls Finn into a kiss in front of one of the stores, then shakes his head as he starts walking again. “I dunno, muy querido, I think you’d think I look funny without it now.” 

“You look funny with it.”

“You said I was sexy,” Puck says, looking injured. 

“You _are_ sexy. You’d just be sexier without the mustache,” Finn says. “Like 20 percent sexier.”

“That’s not really very much,” Puck says, leading them back towards the bus depot. “And, yeah, I think I was right yesterday.” 

“Huh?”

“About us, and small towns, and big cities,” Puck explains. “I mean, it’s good we found jeans long enough for you.” 

“Yeah, but I think you’re right about being right,” Finn says.

“Yeah.” Puck laughs as they climb on another bus. “We can sing that Mellencamp song.”

“We can sing a couple of Mellencamp songs,” Finn points out. “We do have a pink house.”

“Little rosa casa?” Puck asks. 

Finn types it into his phone to translate. “Casita rosa,” he says. “Little pink house.”

“I like it,” Puck says, finding them a seat and then pulling out his phone. “I need to know that in Spanish. Oh, right. Me gusta. Me gusta casita rosa, muy querido.” 

“Yeah, something like that,” Finn says, laughing. 

“No me gusta bus,” Puck grumbles, draping Finn’s arm around him. He types something in and grins at Finn. “ _Quiero desnudarme_.”

“What do you want?”

Puck whispers in Finn’s ear, “You, naked.” 

“Just not on the bus, okay?” Finn says. “We’ll figure out where we’re staying in Juarez. We’ll both be naked.”

“I wouldn’t want you naked on the bus,” Puck says, sounding offended again. “I’m not sharing.” 

“Me either!” Finn says.

“Good.” Puck settles against Finn’s side, their bags of clothes at his feet. “You should sleep some more.” 

“What about you?”

Puck grins. “You think I should rest up for later?”

“Maybe,” Finn says, leaning against Puck. 

“Okay, muy querido,” Puck agrees. “We’ll both sleep.”

They do both sleep, though Finn isn’t sure for how long, since the sun is still out when he wakes up. He repositions himself so he can watch Puck sleep. After a few minutes of just looking at Puck’s face, Finn reaches out and gives the mustache an experimental touch with one fingertip. Puck doesn’t wake up, but he does bring one hand up, almost swatting at Finn’s finger. 

Finn laughs softly and touches Puck again, this time running his fingertip along Puck’s upper lip. Puck swats at his finger again, but his mouth falls open slightly and stays that way, even after he puts his hand down. Finn laughs again and sticks his finger in Puck’s mouth, touching the tip of Puck’s tongue. Puck’s tongue darts forward, then wraps around Finn’s finger as Puck’s lips close again, like he’s giving Finn’s finger a blow job in his sleep. 

If that’s the kind of reaction touching Puck’s face is going to get him, Finn can probably shave that mustache off after Puck’s fallen asleep some night, or at least trim it back to something a little less ’stachey. Finn pulls his finger out of Puck’s mouth and rests his head against Puck’s again. 

“Love you,” Finn whispers. “Don’t love the ’stache.”

Puck whines in his sleep, turning his face towards Finn, and he ends up with his face almost in Finn’s armpit. Finn shifts so Puck falls against his chest instead, then he puts his arm around Puck. After about fifteen minutes, a kid’s head pops over the seat in front of them. 

The kid, who looks like he’s around eight, eyes Finn and Puck critically. “Maricones,” the kids says.

“No, American,” Finn says. “We’re American.”

“ _A_ -maricones,” the kid repeats, laughing like he’s said something really funny. A hand snakes up and grabs the kid by the ear, snatching him back down in the seat, and Finn can hear a woman’s voice chewing the kid out in rapid Spanish. The kid doesn’t reappear over the seat. 

Another fifteen or twenty minutes passes, and Puck starts to move again. “Hmmm,” Puck says, his eyes still closed. “Marigolds.”

“What? You want flowers?” Finn asks. “We can probably get flowers.”

“Huh?” Puck blinks and looks up at Finn. “Hey.”

“Were you dreaming about flowers?”

“No.” Puck shakes his head. “Blow jobs, though.” 

Finn laughs. “Oh.”

“But then—” Puck cuts himself off, shaking his head and sitting up a little. “Are we close to Juarez?” 

“I think so, yeah.”

“We should try an experiment,” Puck says somewhat enthusiastically. 

“Okay. Is it more,” Finn lowers his voice, “sex?”

“That’s not an experiment,” Puck says, grinning. “Nah, we should try just speaking Spanish while we’re in Juarez.” He pauses and pulls out his phone. “Sólo hablan español en Juarez.”

“Okay. I mean, sí. Shit, this is gonna be hard.” Finn shakes his head. “Uh, difícil.”

Puck smirks at him. “Te amo, muy querido.”

“Yeah, te amo también,” Finn says. 

“ _Sí_ ,” Puck insists, still grinning, and then he looks at his phone again, typing something in while Finn rolls his eyes. “¿Qué hora es?”

Finn looks out the window, where the sun is finally starting to set on the horizon. “Noche,” Finn says.

Puck nods. “Hora de dormir, pero no para dormir,” he says after typing on his phone, then frowns a little and types something else in. “No _sueño_.”

Finn points out the window. “Es la noche.”

“Hora, uh, follar.” 

“Follar? What the…” Finn types it into his phone. “Oh. Sí. Hora de follar, for sure.” He squints at his phone again. “I mean, hora de follar, _seguro_.”

“Hora de hotel, también.” Puck looks satisfied with both of them as the bus pulls into another bus depot, which is next to the Hotel Sante Fe. Puck drapes himself over Finn somehow as they disembark and head into the hotel lobby. 

Puck smiles broadly at the person behind the desk, looking down at his phone for a few moments, then back up. “King suite por una noche, por favor.” 

The woman at the desk smiles. “Yes, of course! For just the one night?”

Finn looks at Puck in momentary confusion. “I thought we were speaking en español,” Finn whispers to Puck.

Puck shrugs and types on his phone again. “Estoy?” he whispers back, then looks at the woman and nods. “Sí.”

Finn grins at Puck and whispers, “You’re so good at Spanish.”

“Recién casados?” the woman asks, looking like she’s trying to stop herself from smiling or giggling at them.

“Huh?” Finn asks.

Puck frowns, repeating it to himself a couple of times before nodding. “Sí,” he says somewhat uncertainly. 

“Here, I’ll put you in our La Luna de Miel Suite,” the woman says, punching something into the computer in front of her. “How will you be paying?”

“Dinero,” Puck says, and he reaches into his pocket and pulls out one of the wads of hundred-dollar bills. 

The woman’s eyes widen. “Yes sir, I see that!”

 

Forty-five minutes later, Finn and Puck are lounging together in the jacuzzi tina of what appears to be the honeymoon suite, surrounded by bubbles, and drinking champagne out of plastic champagne glasses. Finn puts his arm around Puck’s chest and slides them both a little lower in the hot water.

“I _love_ Mexico,” Finn sighs happily. 

“Pretty damn perfecto,” Puck agrees, leaning his head back against Finn’s shoulder. 

“Yeah,” Finn says. “ _You’re_ pretty damn perfecto, too.”

Puck grins up at Finn, closing his eyes at the same time. “Even with the mustache?” he asks lazily. 

“Close to perfecto,” Finn says, jostling Puck in the water. Some water and bubbles slosh over the side. “Oops.”

“Nothing’s totally perfecto, I guess,” Puck says, shaking his head but still grinning. “Almost-o perfecto.”

“Yeah, that’s you.”

Puck shifts, turning towards Finn and kissing him, first slowly and then harder, his tongue pushing into Finn’s mouth. He doesn’t stop kissing Finn, either, barely catching his breath before continuing to kiss him as minutes pass. They keep kissing until the water gets cold, then they get out, kissing while they towel off to mostly dry, and move to the bed. Finn pushes Puck down against the bed, climbing on top of him, so his body is covering Puck’s as Finn kisses Puck again. Puck puts his arms around Finn’s waist and chest, holding him tightly. 

One of the phones starts to ring and vibrate on the bedside table. Finn lifts his head and glares at it. 

“I bet it’s Mom,” Finn says.

“Telemarketer,” Puck says, whining and tugging on Finn. 

“Yeah, probably,” Finn agrees, moving his mouth back to Puck’s. The phone stops ringing as Finn nips at Puck’s ear and kisses the side of his neck. 

“See?” Puck says, tilting his head to the side. “If it were—” Puck stops as the other phone starts to ring, and he groans. 

“She’s not gonna stop,” Finn sighs. “Let’s just talk to her now so we can get back to what we’re doing.” He reaches over and accepts the call, hitting the phone straight to speaker. “Hey Mom.”

“Is everything okay, Finn?” Carole asks. “You didn’t answer on your phone!” 

“Yeah, we’re just trying to get cleaned up and settled in,” Finn says, grinning down at Puck. “Long bus ride.”

“So you are in Juarez?” Carole says. “Good. I assume you stopped in Chihuahua, since I got an odd fax.” She pauses. “Finn, why did you fax me a picture of four cows?”

“Yeah, that wasn’t me, that was from Puck,” Finn says, movings his fingers against Puck’s side to tickle him. “He was supposed to tack on a goat.”

“Finn,” Carole says sternly. “Are you boys doing drugs? Is that why you’re in Mexico? Are you part of some drug cartel?”

Puck snorts, still grinning widely, and he pulls Finn down, his lips against Finn’s ear. “Just tell her it’s your dowry.” 

“What’s a dowry?” Finn whispers back.

“Finn, what did you say?” Carole asks. 

“It’s my, uh… dowry?” Finn replies. 

“Your _dowry_?” Carole repeats. “Finn. That doesn’t make any sense. You’re not married, and it’s the bride who receives a dowry. Why am I explaining this? Clearly you _are_ doing some kind of drug.” 

“I’m not, Mom, I swear. No drugs,” Finn insists. “Well, I mean, I think we were probably drugged by whoever brought us to Mexico, but no drugs on purpose!”

“Then why are you talking about a _dowry_ , if you aren’t on drugs?” Carole asks, like that’s a reasonable question. 

“Uh. Well…” Finn looks down at Puck again, mouthing, “You explain.”

“I thought he was worth more than just a goat,” Puck says. “Though a goat could mean you don’t have to mow. Maybe you should talk to Burt and get back to me.” 

“Noah, I—” Carole sounds confused. “Are you purchasing Finn from me with livestock?”

“That sounds so mercenary,” Puck complains. “But sure. Unless you wanted to skip the dowry?” 

Carole laughs, though it still sounds a little confused. “You and I can discuss it when you’re back in Ohio, Noah,” she says. “You, too, Finn.”

“It might be a while until we’re back,” Finn says. 

“The paperwork’s not supposed to take more than a week to ten days, Finn.”

“Well, we’ve got our casita rosa,” Finn tries to explain. “We even bought a cama de matrimonio.”

“Finn Hudson!” Carole exclaims. “Why did you buy a marriage bed?”

“Because that’s what they call king size beds here!” Finn says.

“You rented a house and bought a king-sized bed,” Carole says slowly, “and you said it might be a little while before you’re back in Ohio. Would you like to explain in more detail? Are you _moving_ to Mexico?”

“We’re not really moving,” Puck whispers. “We’re already here.” 

“Mom, the thing is…” Finn looks down at Puck again, then kisses him.

“What, Finn? The thing is what?” Carole demands. 

Finn pulls just barely away from Puck, their mouths still close together. “We like it here, Mom. We thought maybe we’d stick around a little while.”

Carole exhales loudly into the phone. “Stick around. Okay. What are you talking about, two or three months?”

Finn raises his eyebrows at Puck and shrugs, not sure how to explain what he means. Puck kisses him again, very briefly, before turning his head towards the phone. “We’re gonna stay here most of the year,” he says. “Stay in Ohio around the holidays and work then.”

“You’re going to stay in Mexico most of the year,” Carole says flatly. “You don’t mean just this year, do you?” 

“No,” Puck confirms. “Like Finn said, we like it here. Well, not Juarez–here, but Ojinaga–here.” 

“My son is going to live in Mexico with his boyfriend.” Carole pauses. “What about school, Finn?” 

“We figured once we got my ID and stuff, I could take classes online, or find college around here,” Finn says. “You said we were close to Texas. Texas has colleges, I bet.”

“Well, yes,” Carole says somewhat faintly. She’s quiet for almost a full minute. “Well, I suppose it’s doubly important to get your proper documents then,” she says briskly. “I’ll let the two of you finish settling in, and give me a call after you visit the consulate tomorrow.” 

“Okay, Mom. Thanks for all of this,” Finn says. 

“Stay safe, Finn,” Carole says, then ends the call. 

“She didn’t freak out too bad,” Puck says after a moment. 

“Not yet anyway,” Finn says. 

Puck shrugs. “She’s not here,” he says, pulling Finn back down and kissing him. “And hopefully the consulate won’t take too long. We’ll be home this time tomorrow.” 

“Yeah,” Finn agrees. He kisses Puck back hard, his tongue in Puck’s mouth, pushing his body against Puck’s. Puck’s body arches up, pressing back, and his arms go around Finn’s neck as they continue kissing. 

Puck sighs contentedly. “I love Mexico.”

“More than you love me?” Finn teases. 

“Well,” Puck drags out. “Mexico _does_ like my mustache more than you do.” He grins at Finn, then suddenly his grin gets wider. “I’ve got it.” 

“Oh?” Finn asks, propping himself up on one elbow.

“I’ll shave the ’stache off while we’re in Mexico,” he says. “But every year when we go to Ohio, I’m growing it back. And you can’t complain about it to anyone in Ohio.”

“So, only two or three months a year?” Finn considers it, then nods. “Deal.”

“Better enjoy it tonight, then,” Puck says with a grin. “You won’t see it for a little while.” 

“Yeah, I’ll definitely enjoy the hell out of it, then,” Finn agrees. Puck keeps grinning, pulling Finn back into a kiss, and he doesn’t release Finn, his arms tight around him and his lips pressed hard against Finn’s. Puck moves his face like he’s trying to deliberately rub his mustache against Finn, and he’s definitely still grinning as they kiss. 

Puck pulls back and chuckles. “I knew you didn’t totally hate it.” 

Finn wakes up in the morning to Puck’s cleanshaven face hovering over his. He reaches up and touches Puck’s upper lip. 

“No ’stache?”

“Deal’s a deal,” Puck says. “Does it look weird to you now?”

“Nah, looks good,” Finn says, leaning up to kiss Puck on his lips. “We ready to go to the consulate?”

“Ready if you are,” Puck agrees. “We probably shouldn’t tell them we’re planning on staying, they might take longer with our paperwork than if they think we’re eager to get to Lima.” 

“So, smile and lie?” Finn asks.

“I think we can manage that, yeah,” Puck says. “Don’t you?”

“You can answer any of the hard questions.”

“What do you think they’re going to ask?” Puck says, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“I don’t know. Questions about you and me, maybe.” Finn shakes his head. “What kind of toothpaste we use and stuff like that, so they can see if we really know that stuff about each other.”

"I think that's for, like, people wanting to go from Mexico to the US, not the other way around," Puck says. "And, duh, Colgate. I know your _pant size_ , muy querido."

“Yeah, and I know your _dick_ size, novio,” Finn counters. 

"Duh," Puck says, grabbing his phone and typing into it before looking quizzically at Finn. "Which of the three did you mean?"

“Three what?”

"Meanings." Puck grins. "I mean, I know we've been letting people think it, but I'm pretty sure if you like it, you're supposed to put a ring on it." He laughs and leans over to kiss Finn. "Right?"

“Maybe later,” Finn says. “Anyway, I think it means boyfriend. That’s what we learned in class, but I guess it could be wrong.”

"Yeah, Google says 'groom' and 'fiancé' and 'sweetheart'," Puck explains. “But boyfriend works too.”

“I’m okay with sweetheart, too,” Finn says, shrugging. 

“Sí,” Puck agrees, grinning again and standing up. “Let’s go get legal.” 

“Awesome,” Finn says. 

“I think we’ll eventually have to go into Texas and cross back over officially,” Puck says, getting dressed. “Which is weird.” 

“Yeah. Seems like we could just stay here and not worry about all of that,” Finn says.

“I guess we need some kind of stamp or something so the Mexican cops don’t arrest us,” Puck says with a shrug. He finishes getting dressed and spins around with a smirk. “You think I should wear the hat to the consulate or not?”

“Makes you look like you’re Mexican,” Finn muses. “I kind of like it.”

“I’ve been assimilated,” Puck agrees, putting the hat on with a gesture that’s almost a flourish. 

“Yeah,” Finn says. “You totally have.”

They walk together to the shuttle to the American consulate, which arrives after only a short wait. The shuttle ride itself takes about 20 minutes. Finn leans against the window glass to look at Juarez.

“It’s not as nice as Ojinaga,” Finn proclaims to Puck. “Definitely not staying here.”

“I think we already have that hometown-loyalty thing,” Puck says, nodding his agreement with Finn’s statements. 

Finn nods as the shuttle pulls up in front of the consulate. “What if they make us go back to Ohio?” Finn asks.

Puck frowns and grabs Finn’s hand as they stand up to get off the shuttle. “I guess we’ll just have to get our passports from Ohio and then come back,” he says slowly. 

“Yeah. I guess we could get some of our stuff, at least,” Finn says. He squeezes Puck’s hand as they approach the gate, which has a guard box thing in front of it, staffed by a dude in an American army uniform.

“Name and identification,” the army guy says. “And please remove your hat.” 

Puck removes his hat, looking amused. “We don’t—”

“And why you’re visiting,” the army guy continues, like Puck didn’t speak. 

“Noah Puckerman and Finn Hudson,” Puck says. “And we’re here because we don’t have ID.” 

“Here,” Finn says, reaching into Puck’s back pocket and pulling out the folded copies of their IDs. “My mom faxed us this. We’re supposed to go in and get the real thing, ’cause we aren’t in Mexico on purpose and we didn’t have our wallets.”

The army guy nods, looking like he’s trying hard not to be amused, and takes the copies from Finn. He copies some information from them, then punches in some information on a keypad and speaks into a box before handing the copies back as a gate opens. “Inside the lobby, tell the desk on the left why you’re here.” 

“Awesome, thanks!” Finn says. He stuffs the copies back into Puck’s back pocket, then takes Puck’s hand again, and the two of them walk through the gate and up to the building, where a few more soldiers are stationed. 

“This is weird,” Puck whispers. “I didn’t realize how used I was to hearing Spanish now.”

“I know!” Finn whispers back. “Seriously weird.”

“Can I help you gentlemen?” the woman behind the desk says loudly. 

“We’re here to get our paperwork,” Puck says cheerfully. “We got kidnapped to Mexico, but now we want to stay for awhile.”

“Ah, you’re the—” She cuts herself short and shakes her head. “You’ll be speaking with Mr. Fuller. If you’ll please take a seat over there, I’m sure someone will be out for you soon.”

“Thanks,” Puck says. “Can I put my hat back on now?”

“No. You’re inside. My mom says it’s rude,” Finn says out of the corner of his mouth. 

Puck pouts for a few seconds, then shrugs as they sit down where the woman told them to. “Fine,” he says sadly. 

Finn rests his hand on Puck’s thigh, squeezing Puck’s leg gently. “I like being able to see your whole head,” Finn says. 

“Yeah, you just want it between your legs,” Puck whispers with a smirk. 

“It has a nice shape,” Finn insists. “And, yeah. Duh.”

“I knew it,” Puck says smugly. 

“Yeah, because it was such a big huge secret,” Finn says, bumping his knee against Puck’s. 

“Mister Hudson? Mister Puckerman?”

“That’s us,” Puck says, straightening and holding up one hand. The youngish-looking dude who called their names nods at them.

“I’m Mr. Fuller’s assistant. I’m here to take you back to his office,” the dude says.

“And he’ll give us some passports?” Finn asks.

“He has all of your paperwork,” the assistant says, “and he’ll explain about the rest of the process. Don’t worry. It won’t be that bad.”

“What’s your definition of ‘that bad’?” Puck asks the guy suspiciously as they follow him to Mr. Fuller’s office. 

“Just a lot of forms,” a new voice says, presumably Mr. Fuller. “It’s good to finally meet the two of you. You’re doing well? Not injured, not sick, no one’s threatened you?” he asks. 

Puck gets a weird look on his face and exchanges a glance with Finn. “Threatened?” he hisses to Finn. 

Finn shrugs back at Puck. “No, everybody’s been really nice,” Finn says. “I mean, I kind of got sunsick a little bit, but I’m fine now.”

“That’s good,” Mr. Fuller says. “Take a seat, and let’s discuss your next steps.” He launches into a long talk about the forms they have to fill out, which Puck starts filling out while nodding and saying ‘uh-huh’ periodically. 

Finn starts looking at the posters on the wall, including one about kidnappings in Mexico, which Finn thinks is a little bit funny, given the circumstances. Mr. Fuller keeps talking, sounding like he’s mostly saying the same things over and over, and since Puck is filling out the forms, Finn lets his mind wander. He looks at the other posters, reads the titles of the books on Mr. Fuller’s bookshelf, and thinks about Puck, and about himself and Puck, and finally Mr. Fuller says, “I really have to urge you not to go back to Ojinaga. We can’t detain you, of course, but I strongly urge that you not.” 

“What?” Puck protests. 

“There are several hotels right here near the Consulate with excellent security that would make the best place to wait for your paperwork so that you can safely return to Ohio.”

“But our stuff is there,” Finn explains. “We have to go back.”

“I can recommend several courier services who can easily package and ship your things to you here,” Mr. Fuller says, sounding like it’s perfectly reasonable. 

Finn glances over at Puck, who has a resigned, almost sad, look on his face. Puck doesn’t say anything, though he does stop his form-filling-out for a second. Finn sighs and shakes his head. 

“No, we’re going back,” Finn insists. “If you can ship stuff, you can ship stuff to us _there_ , right?”

“There’s absolutely no guarantee of your safety if you choose to travel back to Ojinaga and wait there,” Mr. Fuller says. “We can give you some kind of very provisional documentation today, in terms of the Mexican authorities, but you boys need to understand the risk you’re taking.” 

“Everything’s risky,” Puck says in a low voice. “You aren’t promising we’d be safe in your hotels, either. Just that you think it’s more likely.” 

Mr. Fuller purses his lips, studying Puck for a few seconds, then looking briefly at Finn. “That’s true,” he finally says. “I must tell you that I think it’s quite foolhardy of you.” His eyes are back on Puck, and something in Puck’s face hardens. 

“Well, that’s us, I guess. Foolhardy,” Finn says. “So, can we go now or what?”

“You’ll need to wait for the paperwork to be processed,” Mr. Fuller says. “Why don’t you boys go down to the cafeteria and enjoy some lunch? It’s in the basement on the right as you exit the elevator.” 

“Sure,” Puck says, standing up and handing the clipboard full of paperwork back to Mr. Fuller before taking Finn’s hand. “Thanks for your help.” Mr. Fuller nods, and Puck almost pulls Finn from the room. 

“So, we can go home now?” Finn asks in a low voice. “After we get the paperwork?”

“They can’t stop us,” Puck says once the elevator doors close. “They’d have to come up with a law we’ve deliberately broken or something.” Puck grins suddenly. “Which is why I didn’t bring all the cash from the desert. Just the pesos and the money from your mom.” 

“Oh, that’s smart!” Finn says.

“We should probably change more of it into pesos,” Puck admits. “The sooner we don’t have those actual bills, the less tying us to anything we don’t know about.” 

“Yeah,” Finn agrees. “So there’s a cafeteria somewhere around here?”

“Yeah, how much you want to bet it’s as bad as cafeteria food back at McKinley?” Puck says, dropping Finn’s hand in order to put his arm around Finn’s waist. “And I bet ‘waiting on the paperwork’ will take a few hours.” 

“Probably so.” Finn drapes his arm across Puck’s shoulders. When the elevator dings for their floor, but before the door opens, Finn tilts his head down to kiss Puck. They’re still kissing when the door slides open, and the woman on the other side of the door looks startled. 

“Hi,” Puck says brightly to her, grinning as they walk past. “The cafeteria’s on the right?” He doesn’t wait for her to respond before turning right, arm still around Finn’s waist. “I bet it would have been quicker to apply for a visa from Mexico.”

“Yeah, I bet so,” Finn says. He sniffs the air, frowning. “I smell… spaghetti?”

“I was hoping for spaghetti,” Puck says. “I figured we weren’t going to find that at most of the local places.” 

“We could learn how to make it ourselves.”

“Well, yeah, once we get home,” Puck agrees. “We should get your mom to ship us a cookbook or something.” 

“Yeah, that would be awesome,” Finn says. They get into the serving line, and Finn moves his arm from Puck’s shoulders so they can both take trays. The spaghetti looks and smells surprisingly good, and Finn and Puck both give the server a big smile. She shakes her head at them, but puts an extra scoop of spaghetti and sauce onto both their plates. 

“I bet they think we’re weird,” Puck announces after they’ve sat down and started eating. 

“For liking the spaghetti?” Finn asks. 

Puck laughs and shakes his head. “Nah, for wanting to stay in _México_ ,” he says, using the Spanish pronunciation. “I think Fuller thought we’d jump at the chance to stay at the American-approved hotels.” 

“Yeah, but he’s wrong,” Finn says. “Anyway, those are more expensive, and the one we’re in is nice.”

“Plus, what are we supposed to do all day if we stay in Juarez?” Puck asks. “Watch TV? We could do that in Ojinaga, and watch our own TV. When we go back and buy one.” 

“I don’t know. I don’t think that Fuller guy likes Ojinaga that much,” Finn says. “I’m not even sure he likes Mexico very much.”

“We should write the State Department and tell them to send someone here who actually likes the country,” Puck says decisively. 

“Yeah, that would be good,” Finn agrees. He nods his head while he shovels more spaghetti into his mouth. 

“Too bad there’s not a consulate in Ojinaga,” Puck says thoughtfully. “That’d be a good part-time job, you know?”

“Yeah, you could work at the consulate, and I could work at the border,” Finn says.

Puck frowns, then shakes his head. “No jobs with guns, muy querido.”

“Maybe I’ll open a restaurant, then, after we learn how to cook,” Finn says. 

“What happened to teaching the little kids Journey in Spanish?” Puck asks. “That sounds a lot safer.” 

“I figure, I need my teaching license first, right? So I need something to do to bring in some money in the meantime,” Finn says, shrugging. 

“Tutoring,” Puck says. “I bet you don’t need your license for that. And once you do, you could be like, a bi-national teacher or something.”

“That sounds pretty cool,” Finn says. “Yeah, I could do that.”

Puck grins. “You know, we might as well get dessert while we’re waiting.”

“It looked like pineapple upside down cake. That good with you?”

“Sure,” Puck agrees. “You’d’ve thought they’d have kept the Italian theme going, though.”

“McKinley used to serve cinnamon rolls and corn with pizza,” Finn points out.

“It doesn’t hurt to have high expectations!”

“We’ll learn to make Italian desserts, too,” Finn promises. 

“Okay,” Puck says, nodding a little. They get some of the cake, plus cups of coffee, and they stay in the cafeteria until Mr. Fuller’s assistant comes to find them. 

“I think all of your paperwork is in order,” the assistant says. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll get your final signatures on everything and we can get the ball rolling on proper identification to get you back into the country.”

“So we’ll just have to cross back over officially?” Puck asks as they go with the assistant back towards Mr. Fuller’s office.

“You’ll be able to get into the U.S. with the temporary passport card we’ll be issuing you,” the assistant explains. “The full passport will take a little longer, so you’ll be limited to ground travel until then.”

“Right, so we have to leave Mexico and turn around and come back?” Puck asks. “Or can we just stay here with the passport card? Not here-here, Ojinaga–here.”

“Do you really _want_ to stay here?” the assistant asks. “I thought you and Mr. Hudson were brought into Mexico against your will.”

“Well, yeah,” Puck says with a little shrug. “But it’s not like we got asked and said ‘no’. We just didn’t get asked. And now we do. Want to stay here.” 

“We like it here. Well, not here-here. Ojinaga–here, like Puck said,” Finn adds. 

“Exactly,” Puck says firmly. “So can we just use the passport card if we need ID before our passports come?”

“Well, you _can_ , but I’d strongly recommend returning to— where is it you’re from? Michigan?” 

“Ohio,” Finn says.

“Right, Ohio. I’d strongly recommend returning to Ohio,” the assistant says. “Wait for your real passport, and then, if you still want to return, you do so through legal methods.”

“And just leave our stuff for, what. ‘Six to eight weeks’?” Puck asks skeptically. “If we’re legally in Mexico with the card, we’re going to stay. We can wait six to eight weeks to get the rest of the stuff we need in Ohio.” He looks at Finn quickly, lowering his voice. “Right?”

Finn nods. “Yeah, what he said.”

“If that’s how you want it,” the assistant says, sighing like he’s being personally put out by their choice. He beckons them to continue following him, and crosses his arms and shakes his head when they get to Mr. Fuller’s office again. 

“You think we’ve got time to take the buses back home tonight?” Puck asks Finn while they’re signing reams of paperwork. 

“I hope so. Maybe there’s a late one.”

“Yeah, probably,” Puck says, making a face as he shakes out his hand. “You’d think we were buying a corporation or something, all these papers.” He hands the papers to Mr. Fuller’s assistant once they both finish. “So we just need a card each and we can go?” he prompts, looking expectant. 

Mr. Fuller looks faintly exasperated as he hands each of them a packet. “This has your driver’s license, your Social Security card, some travel advisories and information, and yes, a temporary passport card.” He smiles tightly. “Don’t hesitate to call us if you encounter any problems.”

“We probably won’t,” Puck says cheerfully, taking the packet with his name on it. “Our address in Ojinaga is on those forms, so you can just send our passports there.” 

“Right.” Mr. Fuller nods again, shakes their hands, and then goes back into his office, and Puck turns to Finn with a grin. 

“C’mon, let’s get out of here,” Puck says, taking Finn’s hand. 

“Yeah, I’m tired of dealing with all these Americans,” Finn says. Puck laughs, putting his hat back on as they walk out of the building. 

“You just missed hearing Spanish,” Puck says, half-jokingly. 

“Missed not having to fill out a stack of papers,” Finn counters. 

“Nope, I know what it really is,” Puck announces, waving at the Army guy in the guard shack. “You missed seeing me with my hat on.”

“Yeah, that’s totally it.”

They take the shuttle back to the hotel, where they grab what little they brought with them, money included, and then go back to the bus station. Luckily, they’re in time for the next bus back to Chihuahua, which should get them there in time to take the return bus to Ojinaga. Even though they’re not even really settled into the Casita Rosa yet, Finn misses it. At the very least, he misses what it represents, anyway.

Once they’re on the bus, paperwork safely tucked into their bag, Finn settles into the seat with his arm around Puck. Puck sits back, leaning against Finn. “The way I figure it,” Puck says, lowering his voice and putting his lips against Finn’s ear, “you’d probably like getting a blow job while I’m wearing the hat. Maybe we’ll find your kink there, huh?”

Finn shifts in his seat and smiles. “Yeah, maybe so,” he says, pulling Puck against him a little tighter. 

“Just maybe?” Puck asks, his voice still quiet and his lips pressing against Finn’s skin. “I could be naked except for the hat, if you think you’d like that better.” 

Finn’s smile widens. “You trying to get me in trouble with the bus driver?”

“I’m trying to figure out what would get you in trouble with the bus driver,” Puck says. “I think it might be the way I’m talking to you, though, more than just the idea of the blow job.” He pauses, kissing behind Finn’s ear and along Finn’s jaw for a moment, before putting his lips back to Finn’s ear. “Am I right? Should I keep talking to you?”

“You’re gonna kill me before we get back to Chihuahua,” Finn complains, reaching for one of Puck’s hands and moving it to Finn’s lap. “Feel that?”

“Yep.” Puck sounds smug, pressing his palm down steadily. “That was the idea, actually. I think I’ll get a little explicit for you.” He strokes the outline of Finn’s cock. “You like that plan?”

“No, I hate that plan,” Finn say, lifting his hips just off the seat to press his cock against Puck’s hand. 

“I don’t think you hate this plan,” Puck says, shaking his head. “I think you want me to talk to you about how I’m going to wrap my tongue around your cock, sucking you off until you come in my mouth, and I think you want me to put my fingers in your ass while I’m blowing you, and I think you like me telling you all about this right here.” His hand keeps moving on Finn. “I think you like being this hard.” 

“Not on a bus full of people!” Finn says. “Puck, don’t be mean!”

Puck chuckles against Finn’s ear. “I’m not mean, muy querido. I’m just trying to figure out what really turns you on.” His tongue licks up the outside of Finn’s ear, and his hand stills. “If we weren’t on a bus, what would you want to do right now?”

“All that stuff you just said,” Finn admits. 

“Anything else?” Puck says, slowly moving his hand again. “If you could do anything, what would it be?”

“I’d— I don’t want to say it on the bus!” Finn insists. 

“Please?” Puck says, his hand pressing down more firmly. “Tell me, Finn.”

“Just… you’ve done all this stuff, this _awesome_ stuff, to me,” Finn says quietly. “Doesn’t seem fair I don’t get to do it back to you.”

“Yeah?” Puck asks. “You want to? You want to blow me?” He pauses, his voice dropping again. “You want to fuck me?”

“Yeah. Yeah to both of those,” Finn says. He puts his hand high on Puck’s thigh. “You want me to blow you?”

“Yeah, that’d be awesome,” Puck breathes. “You like that idea? You going to keep your eyes open while you do it, so I can look at you?”

“Yeah,” Finn answers, a little more breathily. “Yeah, I’d like that.” He moves his hand higher, pressing his fingers against Puck’s cock through the front of his jeans.

“Cool.” Puck shifts his weight, pressing his cock up towards Finn’s hand, and at the same time, his own hand presses down on Finn’s cock. “And when you fuck me, how do you want me?”

“All the ways. Is all the ways an okay answer?” Finn asks. 

“It’s a good _plan_ ,” Puck says, stroking Finn’s cock through his jeans. “It’s not a very detailed _answer_ , though.” He lifts his head a little to smirk at Finn. “Maybe tell me how you want me first.”

“On your hands and knees,” Finn says. “So I can see what I’m doing.”

“Yeah?” Puck says. “Not so you can just grab my hips and fuck me extra hard?” he asks almost nonchalantly, but he’s still smirking. 

“Maybe a little bit that, too,” Finn confesses. 

“Awesome.” Puck puts his mouth back on Finn’s neck, kissing around Finn’s ear and down to the collar of Finn’s T-shirt. “You wanna stay up late when we get home?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I want to stay up all night,” Finn says, tilting his head away from Puck to give Puck better access to his neck. “I’ll keep you up all night.”

“That’d better be a promise,” Puck whispers. “We’ll sleep past noon.” 

“It’s a promise,” Finn says. “Now either stop touching or touch harder!”

“Do you _really_ want me to stop?” Puck asks. 

“No,” Finn admits. 

Puck laughs. “I didn’t think so.” He moves his hand just a tiny bit faster. “Love you, muy querido.”

“Yeah, love you, too,” Finn says. He closes his eyes and leans his head against Puck’s. “Hate this bus, though.”

“We won’t have to take it again,” Puck promises. “Even if we need to go to a bigger city, we can just go to Chihuahua, or into Texas, on my bike.” 

“Yeah, that’ll be better,” Finn says, pressing up against Puck’s hand more, and moving his own hand on Puck’s cock through his jeans.

“Trying to get _me_ in trouble?” Puck asks. 

“You started it.”

Puck laughs and moves his head to press his lips to Finn’s. “Yeah, I did,” he says when he pulls back. “I don’t think either one of us is really complaining, though.” 

Finn grins at Puck. “Maybe a little bit of complaining.”

The rest of the bus ride borders on torture, since they can’t really go past outside-the-jeans touching. The bus from Chihuahua to Ojinaga doesn’t require any wait, though, so they’re back in Ojinaga by 11. Finn and Puck walk from the bus station back to the Casita Rosa with Finn’s arm over Puck’s shoulders, and Puck’s arm around Finn’s waist, the two of them stopping to kiss on street corners. 

“It’s good to be back,” Puck says as they turn onto their street. “I know we weren’t gone that long, but…”

“Yeah. I missed the Casita,” Finn says. 

“Yeah,” Puck agrees, unlocking their door and then shutting it behind them. He leans on the door and grins. “Now, you promised to keep me up all night, so my question is, are we headed straight for the bedroom, or are we staying out here for a bit?”

“We do have all this other furniture. And wasn’t there some kind of hat thing? 

Puck keeps grinning, starting to take off his shirt. “ _Just_ the hat, right?”

“Yeah. Just the hat,” Finn says. Puck slowly removes the rest of his clothes, leaving his hat on, and then he runs his hands down Finn’s chest, unfastening Finn’s jeans. Puck is quiet until Finn’s jeans are around his ankles, and Puck runs his hands up Finn’s legs. 

“Is this good?” he asks, tilting his hat back enough to make eye contact with Finn. 

“Shit, yeah, that’s awesome,” Finn says. 

Puck laughs. “I haven’t even gotten to the good part yet!” he says, then licks his tongue over the tip of Finn’s cock. “Yeah, been waiting to do this since we got to the consulate,” he says, and with that, Puck takes Finn’s cock completely in his mouth, one hand on Finn’s balls. 

“Oh, _shit_ , that’s awesome,” Finn says. Puck slides his lips further down Finn’s cock, and his free hand reaches for one of their bags, unzipping it. Puck’s hand squeezes Finn’s balls a little, his tongue wrapping around Finn’s cock, and he looks up, eyes barely visible underneath the hat. 

“Yeah, you should always wear the hat. That hat.” Finn reaches down to touch Puck’s face. Puck tilts his face just slightly, into Finn’s touch, and the hand on Finn’s balls goes away briefly before one slick finger runs over them and then presses slowly inside Finn. 

“Oh god,” Finn says quietly. “Oh god, Puck. That feels so good.”

Puck pushes his finger deeper, his mouth moving faster on Finn’s cock, and he keeps his eyes on Finn’s. The hat slides back just a little as Puck moves, exposing a little more of his face. Finn touches Puck’s face again, running his fingertips over Puck’s cheek. 

“Love you,” Finn says. 

Another one of Puck’s fingers presses inside Finn’s ass, and his other hand comes up to Finn’s balls as he moves his mouth and wraps his tongue around Finn’s cock. Puck’s eyes close for a few seconds before opening again, staring at Finn. 

“Shit, Puck, if you keep doing that, I’m gonna come in like five seconds,” Finn says, trying to keep the whine out of his voice. 

Puck’s head nods a little, his fingers pushing in deep and his tongue flicking across the tip of Finn’s cock. Finn lets out one little yelp, says “oh shit," and then starts coming, hard, in Puck’s mouth. Puck keeps his hands and his mouth still as Finn comes, then moves the hand from Finn’s balls to Finn’s hip and slowly releases Finn’s cock. 

“So the hat, huh?” Puck asks, removing his fingers slowly and then standing. 

“The hat, your mouth, your fingers, everything,” Finn sighs. “It’s all just right.”

“Yeah,” Puck agrees, his arms going around Finn before he starts kissing Finn, pressing his body against Finn’s. Puck’s cock presses against Finn’s leg, making Finn smile against Puck’s lips. Puck puts his mouth to Finn’s jaw, kissing it and then mouthing against Finn’s neck. “You gonna blow me now? Or do you want to fuck me first?” he mumbles against Finn’s skin. 

“I should blow you first. Seems fair,” Finn says. 

“Okay,” Puck agrees, still kissing Finn’s neck. “Where do you want me?”

“Sit in the La-Z-Boy.”

Puck chuckles, then kisses Finn hard, pushing his tongue into Finn’s mouth. “With or without the hat?” he asks as he pulls away, walking to the La-Z-Boy.

“Without,” Finn says. He follows Puck to the La-Z-Boy and waits for Puck to sit, then leans down and kisses him, running his hands across Puck’s chest. “Unless you want me to wear it.”

“Maybe next time,” Puck says, removing the hat and tossing it across the room like a Frisbee. “Unless you end up hating blowing me or something, I mean.” 

“Nah,” Finn says. He slides down onto his knees in front of Puck, pawing his hands down Puck’s thighs. “No way.”

“Always the optimist,” Puck says fondly, his hands running through Finn’s hair. 

“Just going off how much I’ve liked everything else,” Finn insists. He kisses the tops of Puck’s thighs as he moves his hands up to Puck’s hips. 

“Yeah, like I said. Optimist.” Puck’s fingers flex in Finn’s hair and then one starts almost petting the side of Finn’s head. 

“Yeah,” Finn says quietly, then gives the head of Puck’s cock an experimental swipe with his tongue, looking up at Puck with raised eyebrows. Puck grins at him, shifting his hips just barely. 

“Yeah, that’s hot.”

“Cool,” Finn says, doing it again, then taking just the head into his mouth. He glances up at Puck again, waiting. 

Puck lets out a little whine, his hips starting to move and then stopping. “You’re kind of a tease,” Puck says with a small grin, and his fingers tug on Finn’s hair just a bit. 

Finn grins back as he slides his mouth down Puck’s cock about halfway, then pulls back. Puck whines again, his hands trying to stop Finn from pulling away. Finn works his mouth back down Puck’s cock again, this time bringing one hand up to carefully cup Puck’s balls. 

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Puck says softly, staring down at Finn. “Feels good. You like it?”

Finn nods without pulling away. He runs his tongue along Puck’s cock, trying to take more of it into his mouth and finally having to acknowledge that no, that’s as far as he can manage. He moves back to the head again, wrapping his free hand around the base. 

Puck keeps letting out small, quiet whines, almost like he doesn’t realize he’s making any noise, and he moves one hand from Finn’s hair. “Not gonna last long,” he says, sounding breathless. “Gimme one of your hands.”

Finn frowns slightly, confused, but he moves the hand from Puck’s balls up so Puck can grab it. Puck pulls Finn’s hand up, then starts sucking on two of Finn’s fingers, a little like the finger–blow-job on the bus but messier, and then he starts to pull Finn’s hand back down again. 

“Forgot the lube,” Puck explains, rocking his hips up. “Need something so you can put your fingers in my ass.”

Finn raises his eyebrows, letting Puck guide his hand down, until Finn’s two fingers are pressed against Puck’s ass. Puck nods, eyes fixed on Finn’s face. Finn slowly pushes his fingers inside Puck, his eyes widening at how tight it feels. 

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” Puck whines, his hips rocking again. “Shit, sorry, yeah, like that.”

Finn almost chokes, but pulls back enough to recover quickly, then starts moving his mouth again as he pushes his fingers deeper inside Puck. Puck keeps whining, both of his hands in Finn’s hair again. 

“So close,” Puck warns. “Really fucking close.” 

Finn nods, pressing in with his fingers and moving his lips and tongue faster on Puck’s cock. Puck’s eyes close for the first time since he sat down, his hips rocking up once and his hands tightening in Finn’s hair as he comes, whining Finn’s name. Finn sputters a little as he swallows, but he manages it, not letting Puck’s cock slip out of his mouth until Puck stops moving and making noise. 

Finn sits back on his heels, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. “Was that alright?”

Puck starts pulling Finn up towards him, opening his eyes and grinning. “It was awesome,” he says. “C’mere.” 

Finn lets Puck hoist him up, bringing their mouths together hard. Finn pushes his tongue into Puck’s mouth as they kiss. Puck runs his hands down Finn’s back and onto Finn’s ass, then slides one hand between them, wrapping it around Finn’s cock and stroking it almost lazily as they kiss. 

“You should take me into the bedroom and fuck me now,” Puck says, squeezing Finn’s cock gently. “You really, really should.” 

“Yeah, definitely,” Finn agrees, standing and pulling Puck to his feet. Once Puck is also standing, Finn leans forward, shoulder into Puck’s stomach, and lifts Puck into an awkward fireman’s carry. “Hang on.”

Puck laughs. “Don’t have much choice, do I?” 

“Nope!”

Finn drops Puck onto the mattress and crawls onto the bed on top of him, pushing Puck down against the bed as he kisses him. Puck pulls away, grinning and almost laughing. “The lube. Unless you want me to have the Vaseline experience, too.”

Finn groans and rolls off of Puck. “Fiiiiiine. Go get it.”

Puck laughs and rolls off the bed, leaning over to kiss Finn again before he goes into the other room and returns with the lube. He hands it to Finn and flops down on the bed. “I mean, obviously the Vaseline wasn’t horrible, but since we do have the real thing now.” 

“Yeah, real thing’s good,” Finn says. He pours some of the lube into his fingers. “So, how much of the finger thing do you want before I can fuck you?”

“Uh, I don’t know,” Puck admits. “Remember I haven’t done this before.”

“Okay. Just let me know when you think it’s enough, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Puck agrees. “You want me to roll over now?”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Finn says. 

Puck rolls over, wiggling his ass and grinning over his shoulder at Finn. “C’mon, muy querido.” 

Finn grins back and runs his hand over Puck’s ass, then pushes two lubed fingers inside. Puck pushes back, his entire ass and back wiggling again with the movement, and he shifts his weight to spread his legs a little wider. Finn watches his fingers sinking deeper into Puck, then pulls them out slightly before pushing them in again.

“You still good?” Finn asks. 

“Better’n good,” Puck says. “You able to see what you’re doing?” 

“Yeah, I can see, alright.”

“Just checking,” Puck insists, rocking his hips back again. “Maybe you should fuck me now.”

“Yeah, maybe so,” Finn says, giving his fingers a few more thrusts into Puck before withdrawing them. Puck whines a little, his ass almost chasing after Finn’s fingers. Finn laughs as he picks up the bottle of lube again, pouring some into his hand, then running his hand over his cock. “Dude, patience.”

“I am!” Puck protests, looking over his shoulder at Finn. 

“Sure you are,” Finn agrees happily, moving to kneel between Puck’s legs. He lines his cock up with Puck’s ass and rocks forward, pushing just the tip inside. “Still good?”

“Yeah,” Puck says as he exhales. “Yeah, yeah, you can keep going.” 

“Awesome,” Finn says, pushing farther inside. He rocks his hips back, then thrusts in again, this time all the way. “You tell me if anything’s not good.”

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Puck says, groaning at the end of the sentence. “Yeah, okay, fuck, Finn, just stay there a second.” 

“Okay,” Finn breathes, holding himself still. “Tell me when.”

“Yeah,” Puck agrees. “You good?” 

“Better when I can move again,” Finn says. “But yeah. Good. This is awesome.”

“Good.” Puck looks back at Finn, eyes blazing, and then he nods. “Yeah, fuck me now.” 

“Awesome,” Finn says, thrusting forward into Puck again, harder this time, his hands holding onto Puck’s hips. He looks down at his cock sliding in and out of Puck’s ass, watching himself fuck Puck. 

“Oh, yeah, that,” Puck says, his face turning back towards the mattress and his hips rocking towards Finn. “Holy fuck, Finn.” 

“Yeah, yeah this is amazing,” Finn says. “You’re so tight, it feels so good.”

“Yeah, why didn’t we do this sooner, again?” Puck asks, letting out a half-chuckle. 

“Too busy having _you_ fuck _me_ ,” Finn answers. 

“Oh yeah.” Puck pauses, whining as he meets Finn’s thrusts. “That’s good too.” 

“I know, right?” 

Puck laughs. “You can go harder. If you want to.” 

“Yeah, I want to,” Finn says, bringing his hips forward harder and faster. “Not gonna last too long, though.” 

“Yeah,” Puck agrees. “You’re watching it aren’t you?”

“Shit yeah,” Finn says. “It’s _awesome_ , Puck. It’s so damn awesome.” He squeezes Puck’s hips more tightly as he pounds into him. “Shit, Puck, soon.”

“Yeah, good, that’s good,” Puck says, still rocking his hips with each thrust. “You should come, yeah.”

“Yeah, I am, I am, I’m— oh, oh _shit_ , Puck!” Finn gasps, slamming into Puck one last time as he starts to come, feeling like his whole body is shaking. 

“Oh, fuck,” Puck says quietly, his body still under Finn’s for a few moments before he starts to shudder. “Oh, fuck fuck fuck,” he adds, groaning a little and then slumping towards the bed. 

Finn leans against Puck’s back, breathing heavily. “Did you just come?” he asks, his face pressing against Puck’s neck. “That is so fucking hot.”

“Yeah,” Puck breathes. “That was awesome.” 

“Yeah it was,” Finn says. 

“Let’s, you know. Do that again,” Puck says.

“Other way around?” Finn offers, smiling against Puck’s skin.

Puck laughs, and Finn can feel him nodding. “You did promise me all night long.”

“I sure did,” Finn says. 

When they wake up, the sun is high and hot outside, well past noon. They roll out of bed sticky and sweaty and still kissing, pulling on jeans in between grabbing at each other. Finn grabs a couple of cervezas out of the tiny, ancient refrigerator that came with the Casita Rosa, while Puck drags two sagging plastic chairs from the back yard to the dusty concrete patio in front. They sit in the chairs, cervezas in hand, Finn’s feet propped on the low wall on the side of the patio, his free hand resting on Puck’s thigh.

“We’ve got a pretty nice casa,” Puck says, taking a drink of his cerveza. “Pretty good cama, too.”

“Sí, we do,” Finn agrees. “And a pretty buena vida.”

Puck nods. “Sí.” He holds up his cerveza and grins, gesturing with it towards Finn’s. 

“Salud, dude,” Finn says, clinking his cerveza to Puck’s. 

Puck’s grin widens. “¡Salud!”


End file.
